A Stream Apart
by Pale-Darkness
Summary: Deciding to follow her own ideas Lavellan sets out on a path to change the world in her own manner, hoping she might save an Elvhen God along the way. I edited Chapter 8, but only two lines - nothing major updated since 30 May.
1. Prologue: Indulgent Dreaming

_Foreword: I admit I've read all the spoilers for the game and DL, but have only made it to just past the Winter Palace. I have not done extensive research but I know how I want the story to flow so if there are inconsistencies in the world feel free to notify me. I've already worked on the first few chapters, so I figured I'd load them but I am busy with work, writing my own story, and this so I cannot guarantee updates regularly. Without further ado,_

Prologue: Indulgent Dreaming

Leone sat at her desk, an empty flute for champagne at hand. Instead she chose to sway the half empty bottle gingerly back and forth with her strong right hand. Candlelight surrounded her desk like a shrine with the stacks of documents and paperwork haphazardly organized. In the soft, flickering light her dark, velvet gray hair appeared black as night matching her gentle eyebrows. The windows were open to the balcony as the moon shone and lit the cobblestone. Her bold, ruby eyes followed the glowing white trail of light that the moon created from the balcony to the inside of her chambers. Tears swelled up a bit but she bit her lip and took another swig. She grimaced at the burn, her full cupid bow lips sneering back and glistening. Long lashes brushed against her skin the color of burnt clay as she rubbed where her vallaslin had been.

Now safely in this comforting haven she didn't have to act certain and strong. Despite all the time and effort she had invested in the Inquisition, she could not stay. The friends she had made were dear to her heart, and even now through tears she chuckled at Iron Bull's obscene tales and Dorian's unbridled confidence. Both had spent many nights with her at the Herald's Rest trying various libations and sharing stories, Varric had occasionally added a few tales of his own. Every life she saved had been valuable to her beyond measure. Her time had been well spent here trying to put the world back together and perhaps even change it by small measure slowly.

Ferelden and Orlais had prospered beneath the security and promise of the Herald of Andraste.

Inside her own world had shattered and, in a way, the false arm she had learned to adapt to comforted her. Its contrast represented physically all she had been forced to cope with as the Herald.

By all rights she had grown in wits, charm and strength. The Anchor was gone, but her body was fitter and sturdier bearing her sword and shield than it ever had been. Age had firmed her face and even though she was no young doe, it was definitely full of graceful beauty with poise and humor. The company she kept included people she had never dared dream to meet. Not to mention the high nobles of all the land had looked at her with either derision as the knife-eared git who suddenly had power or a few that even cast a look of respect, and even rarer admiration. Then she had fallen in love only to have that same elf walk away...correction...an elf who was seen as a god.

At this time if anyone asked her, "Is this for you or for him?" she was afraid to answer, because while sarcastic and commanding was in her nature, she didn't want to lie. In truth she wasn't entirely sure if her choice was to serve her intentions or his own. When she confessed outright to her companions her intentions to save him...she knew the looks on their faces. Full of fear and concern for her fate – how far would she follow?

They would not understand, she told herself, it was not her intention to join him. No, she did not agree with his plan – but if she could challenge the great Fen'Harel then that was the only chance she needed. A moment later she doubted herself, nearing the end of this bottle of Dragon Piss as she took another slow swallow. Was she just a fool? Perhaps one of many numerous lovers thrown to the wayside by some false god? After all he had lived for centuries beyond imagination. In what way could some Dalish elf with an open mind and fate do to stop the plans of a being equivalent to a god?

These moments of self pity dwell within her heart. She set the nearly empty bottle on the desk, beginning to remove her clothes and stumbled slightly with her breeches. Her usually tightly pulled back dark silver locks of hair crept into view and she threw her head back. Standing here in her smalls she suddenly laughed.

No.

She was no fool. The world had already judged her most of her life, some orphan elf that the Lavellan clan had taken mercy on. A strong enough warrior sent to observe the Conclave and return with news. Circumstances had brought her here, but she had paved the road. What did she care if they judged her now?

After all, she had led the Inquisition with little choice beyond a feeling of responsibility for those looking up to her as the only bearer of the Anchor. She had been pushed and pulled for so long with the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. 'Should have been Iron Bull,' she thought and giggled drunkenly, her lithe tanned fingers gracing her lips to cover her smile. He looks as if he could carry the world on his shoulders and had assisted in carrying many an injured or drunken companion to safety. Sighing she snuffed out all but one candle, carrying it to her bed side slowly. Drunk she may be but at least she was mildly aware. Perhaps it would be nice, attempting to save at least one person instead of thousands. In saving him she could also prevent chaos if she was successful. Worst case – she died, failing him and the world, but with no regrets. Leone laughed darkly, nothing flowed stronger in her blood than stubbornness.

Why did he take the time to remove the Anchor?

Why did he reveal all these truths after nothing but betrayal?

Why kiss her and look as he did?

Why didn't he just kill her, did it matter?

Too many questions but the truest question of all – Would knowing a single answer to one of those change her mind?

'No,' she thought, giggling to herself at the insanity of emotions and pain.

Tonight, though, she would laugh and enjoy her immense bed with its billowing drapes pulled back so she may see the moonlight. Despite the vibrant burgundy cloth covering her bed and the velvet comforter, nothing could compare to the brilliant flaming crimson of her eyes. Some were terrified of her gaze because the flare within made her enemies think of demons. Usually it brought her some glee to lower her shield in battle, lunging in with her sword and watching the terror as the enemy she fought caught sight of them.

Not Solas though.

He had always met her gaze with kindness, intrigue and after some questions a passion she had never expected. It seemed as if he...took pleasure in focusing his sights on her eyes them as if they were a treasure. A magic of the Fade placed in life before him.

She paused, feeling the negative pressure of the drinks hitting her suddenly. Suddenly the cool breeze hit her in her underclothes, no longer a gentle wave. Her body shivered but somehow...somehow it calmed her with the tears she held back all day. Smiling and pretending her heart wasn't out there and out of reach brought her so much exhaustion throughout the day. Pretending had helped after some time, though, as her smiles now had come easier and her companions looked at her with less concern.

A few sniffs and wipes at her eyes strained from tears, another quiet calm settled on her soul.

He had lied and betrayed them all the while.

But not what they had.

Those looks had not been false, the pain, those smiles and desperate touches.

It would have been kinder to never have started, but would she really prefer to have never experienced those moments of happiness?

No.

The world would judge her, just like any other day, but it was her own judgment she lived with and thus far it had carried her through trials she had never thought she'd manage. With these thoughts and a body chilled she got up, closed the doors to her balcony and returned to bed.

She would not deny her feelings, she was not owed his love or devotion as if love was some barter system. It just was.

A piece of her heart was afraid to fall asleep, though. The first few months after their last encounter she had a variety of dreams – from memories of their first kiss to nightmares that he'd slaughter her as she stood in his way. Then in the background she would see a giant wolf, many times she thought she had imagined it. Some foolery her mind created to cope, but it never fit. The wolf did not follow a pattern but...something was off for no matter how far or near it came, it was always clear and...real. A few nights in her dreams she had moved towards it only to watch it run away.

It felt odd that he might be watching her dreams. Especially when she could barely handle them. The first few weeks of them she realized it was the illusion of happiness that crushed her most when she awoke.

Most cruel was the one only a few nights before she had made her announcement. It was a simple day, training with Cullen's soldiers and even teasing him into a sparring match before Iron Bull aggressively requested his own opportunity against his boss. Her cognitive wheels had been processing her next step and remaining in the Inquisition had made her uneasy of late. Exhausted she had flopped into her bed with abandon and satisfaction.

Then the dream happened.

She was in a forest, watching horses and halla filter through the gaps in the trees and light breaking in the slight openings of the canopy. It felt warm in her dream and she heard a laugh which made her turn, she felt more than saw that she was wearing a common tunic and breeches light as a feather. Her hair was free in the wind and in the distance she saw Varric waving to her – wait – no, not her.

It was someone else. A smaller creature, skin a bit lighter than her own and long, auburn hair falling in rivulets down its back. She could not tell its gender but it ran to Varric as if he were a traveling uncle come bearing gifts. Leone frowned, 'Uncle...that's a strange thought.' But then it looked back at her and she knew instantly the moment it laid eyes on her. Her heart screamed this child was hers, this urchin she had never imagined before. It was the child's eyes that took up her focus though as if the dream wished to show her a secret. They were deep set under slender brows, but still the brilliant blue within shone in the distance. Those eyes...that soft hidden smile. She knew who those belonged to and from the edges of her vision she had seen his frame come from the trees towards the child. Long legs covered in pine green breeches and a plain tunic...it could be no one else. His face began to turn, light hitting the curve of his scalp and the flushed lips.

She had woken up and the ache in her chest after hit her harder than any nightmare she'd suffered before. For nights she had forced herself to down a few drinks before falling asleep.

Leone lay her head down finally, watching the wick of the candle burn slowly and constant before her as the wind picked up suddenly outside. It began to howl around the castle and she sighed, pulling the bountiful blankets around her, knowing the cold couldn't touch her for now. She would take the comforts she could the next few days as she set her plans into motion.

"Solas…," she whispered as the wind howled strongly and shook the sealed doors slightly, a final tear making its trek down her shapely cheek winding over the apple down into the curve of her neck. It slowed and the trail of salty memories ceased its movement between her breasts against her warm heart.

No one would know at that moment, at that time, the great betrayer sat in his own hidden chamber dealing with his own anguish. A blazing fire kept him company and a heavy goblet waved precariously in his hand as he held his face in his hands. He had confessed he should be punished and nothing had ever hurt quite like this. Doing the right thing had always brought him comfort, no matter who hated him or judged him in the aeons of his life. Much of his existence had been as a lone wolf, observing the other Evanuris at a respectable distance.

He had woken in this new world, realizing instead of fixing the wrongs of his world – he had brought a new tragedy upon those he had sought to protect instead.

And then...to be reliant upon this Dalish warrior...some young creature with a ravenous mind seeking education and knowledge to rival his own. While she had treated all with respect she had also subtly revealed her own ideologies. At times her thoughts opposed his own but with such a conviction he could do naught but watch her. He wondered about her opinions and considered the depth of her words, her actions. Then...that early afternoon in Haven he had made a subtle comment, not realizing his thoughts had escaped his lips and eagerly he had flirted with her.

She had been surprised he saw, his honesty had garnered a blush nearly matching the red of her vallaslin. Those glorious red eyes had widened greatly that time, just as her lips had when he had returned her kiss in the Fade. Gods, he thought as he replayed the memory every night over and over, pressing his calloused palms into his eyes. His now were red from lack of sleep and tears, puffed and swollen.

For weeks after their last encounter he had carried on in front of his army, gathering them and ordering them with his headdress covering his face to the tip of his elegant nose. Every day he planned where to go to find the strongest Elvhen artifacts. He also needed to replace his orb so he may begin to gather strength to free these modern elves before bringing down the Veil. It was during the few hours he should be resting, sleeping and gathering his strength that he sat here in a dimly lit bedroom before a raging fireplace reliving every moment. Her laughter. Her smile. Her fierce cries as she defended all of them with her shield and sword despite her lithe figure.

He recalled in each fight how she would dive forward, screaming and taunting the enemies to focus on her. At first he felt indignant that he need stand back. Fen'Harel allowing some Dalish child to protect him? But then the time he had led them into a battle she had been furious. Not precisely at him, more the enemy who had charged, but it was a memory he recalled easily.

Their first foray into the Hinterlands she had still been nervous ordering them all about.

"So…do you travel in the Fade too, Leone?" Varric asked curiously as they had been looking for elfroot and heading on the path to meet Mother Giselle.

"Oh, I'm not quite as lucky as Solas," Leone had chuckled lightly, her mail covered hand scratching the back on her neck. So early in their journey they had not found much loot yet to include a helmet and Cassandra had been pressuring the Inquisitor to take her own. Leone had refused, wanting Cassandra to be protected.

"So you think our friend here is lucky to travel so?"

"I think the sights must be fascinating. I love hearing the tales he shares. I cannot imagine what it must be like to see such a place and control it," she sighed, spotting some iron she quickly chose to excavate and returned to them.

"Looks like you have a fan, Solas," Varric quipped, watching the older elf raise an eyebrow at him.

"Ah – well, our Inquisitor has yet to read your Hard in Hightown series," Solas suggested kindly, "She may end up preferring those to Fade discussions." He paused for a moment, hearing something off in the trees and stepped in that direction, proceeding a bit off from their little group. Probably just a fennec fox frolicking in the brush.

"You haven't?" Varric gasped at Leone in mock horror. Cassandra sighed heavily and rolled her eyes as Varric quickly explained the series premise. Suddenly, they heard a shout and Leone rushed to the source with her two companions following close behind. A soldier had rushed Solas and knocked him back, but the apostate had a barrier in place. Two archers stood back aiming their arrows. In his mind Solas was not concerned at all. These were random bandits and easy to defeat even if he was on his ass for a split second.

Leone had rushed in, her sword behind her shield and her slender body had flitted between him and the soldier. In the moment he took to stand she had stood like a wall, feet planted as the soldier slammed into her body. She had grunted and slid back a bit, her body pressing up against Solas as she braced herself before releasing a loud cry. The warrior was caught off guard and with a twisting motion she had moved from Solas and slashed her sword across the enemy's body.

Once the battle was over she came to his side, looking over him like some mother hen.

"Are you injured?" she asked hurriedly, giving him a glance over.

"No, I am fine," he had said.

"I apologize for being distracted, I was not focused and you might have been hurt," she said, her brow furrowed in anger at herself.

"Worry not, da'len. I am fine," he said, placing a comforting hand on her armored shoulder. She had smiled sadly at him and nodded. That day forward she never let any of her companions out of sight. Even Iron Bull. She would watch them all carefully and place herself at the brunt of attacks to defend them. Many nights he had imagined that first touch...accidental as it was. After he could always determine when she was near by her scent.

She was a dream he had never dared to consider.

He had made so many mistakes in the past it made his head swim.

This plan...like so many others felt like air slipping through his fingers as he tried to grasp hold of his fate. Selfish as it may have been, for once in his immortal life he had felt right...he had felt at peace and felt...he had felt.

It overwhelmed him completely. Since pushing her away and hardening himself to her he had become a man obsessed. This cause he had built over a year while hiding within the Inquisition, planning to sacrifice everything. At the moment he struggled to find himself in the tatters of his plan. Such as now, drinking more than he ever had and humming a melody to himself, a song that had played in the Herald's Rest one night when he had spent time with her and the others. That alone may not seem wrong...but surrounding him on the worn, wood floor in a crescent were drawings.

All of her.

Some she was aware of, when he was 'practicing' her image for the frescoes. At this time he could not recall if he ever even used them for the fresco. In truth, he had made them for himself, to keep in his sketch book. An image of her in the gardens planting an Embrium seed, one of her atop a mare staring into the distance, the day she became Inquisitor, the look on her face after their first kiss, the way she sprawled on his couch reading to herself, her expression as she admired his paintings...every moment he could capture. Dead center, the one he stared at most was one of two he had painted of her. He had asked if he could paint her and she chose the library in Dorian's chair so Dorian had kept her entertained as she sat while Solas focused.

A few looks had been sent his way he knew. Dorian was quite intuitive and most of the castle knew of the relationship between Leone and himself. During the painting Dorian had teased the Inquisitor for her bored expression but left after awhile becoming bored himself. When he left, he came behind Solas for a moment to look it over and leaned close.

"My, my, I dare say, I never knew you had such a sensual touch Solas. It's positively erotic," he chimed with an evil grin watching Lavellan bolt upright looking flushed.

"Given your usual discussions I never took you for a conservative," Solas stated simply, ignoring the man. There was nothing erotic about the painting, but seeing Lavellan blush made him reconsider the idea.

"Just teasing dear...although I wouldn't put it past your hahren to have some...personal collection...hmmm?" Dorian said with a purr, laughing as he walked away. That...wasn't a lie and Solas felt Lavellan's gaze heavy on him which he refused to meet, hoping the heat in his face wasn't as obvious as it felt.

He had been nearly done hours later when he had looked up, seeing his love tense and stiff. Until now he had done all but the face. Taking a moment she watched him get up and walk over.

"Are we done?" she had asked pleasantly, stretching.

"Not quite," he said, watching her lips purse in question. His voice had come out deep, heavy. Excitement spread over her face as he came near and in the small alcove he chuckled softly, brushing his lips against hers as she released a soft sigh. At first he planned to pull back, but then he had rested his knee to the side of her thigh on the chair as he felt her body relax and give. He allowed just a few more moments, holding her neck in his palm and massaging the back of it. She was flushed as was he when he stepped back to sit and finish his work, laughing as her disappointment spread across her face.

"Smile for me, vhenan," he said, his voice still husky and his lips red from their kiss. Her face lit at the word and he moved quickly to capture it.

Every night since he had last kissed her he sat in his room, refusing to forget her face.

Reliving every memory as if it might fly away.

And memorizing every line and curve of the faces he had drawn splayed before him.

Sometimes he would scream or cry.

But he took great pains to not sully the images, for she was a light that had warmed him in a way that neither world had ever shown to him before.

In the Fade he would travel all over the realm for new experiences and discoveries in an attempt to forget her if even for a few minutes.

He thought with time, perhaps he would reign in these feelings, he would find some new memories or Spirits in the Fade to remind him of his goal and his cause. If anything, they had gotten worse as now he had begun to force himself to stay from her dreams until he had explored other areas first. Now, he would only allow himself to visit her dreams once every few days, watching her and wishing.

He had seen all her dreams, suffered through them and tried to keep the nightmares away best he could without interfering too much. Certain dreams now he took as memories, futures that could never be...could they?

"Stop," he said out loud, his lips drawing into a thin line as he spoke to himself harshly. This could not continue. Already he had faltered by venturing to the outskirts of Skyhold once. It would have been easy for him to make it to her balcony...to look into the room that had been his...theirs…steal one more kiss…

"Fenedhis!" he shouted to the ceiling, standing and shaking in anger. His eyes flashed like cosmic lightning and a vein in his neck pulsed rapidly. He had a duty, he was alone...no one could change what he had done to his people. Reaffirming his thoughts, reminding himself of his obligation. He owed his people for all that had befallen them in his absence. Memories of the Dalish and city elves he met flowed to his mind.

He would save his people. Love could not grow in this environment, on this path.

 _Var lath ver suledin._

She had shouted it at him as he had bent to her. Vhenan never raised her voice...her conviction...it had brought him near tears and for a moment he believed her. So he had taken another kiss not meaning to.

Crouching to the floor again his fingers stroked the vibrant painting on the floor.

Those words echoed like a prayer in his mind.

 _Var lath ver suledin._

He would sleep...if only to visit her dreams.


	2. Chapter 1: Preparations

Chapter 1: Preparations

Leone woke up slowly, rolling in her bed and stretching. For once she had slept well even after finishing champagne and the remnants of the Dragon Piss Iron Bull had brought as a 'retirement' present. When he had slipped it into her hand he had also mentioned if she was looking for new opportunities she was welcome to try her hand with the Chargers.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she searched for the water pitcher sitting ignored on her desk and began to pour it into a cup. Halfway she changed her mind and instead simply tilted the pitcher over her mouth and drank while relishing the coolness soothing her sore throat. Quickly she brushed her hair and pulled it back into a simple braid, still loose as she had grown weary of the tight braiding she usually did before battle. Decked in her austere white blouse and gray trousers she grabbed a handful of documents from her desk. Her first course of business would be to hand off the documents to Josephine and then speak with Cullen. It was odd not having Leliana to speak with at the meetings anymore, but as the new Divine she had little choice in the matter.

Walking into the war council room Cullen smiled her way, Josephine bowed her head respectfully and Cassandra chose to lean casually in the table using a light wave to greet Leone.

"Well, I suppose this will be our final meeting then Inquisitor," Josephine said softly, her voice maintaining its cheery tone throughout. "Have you signed everything?"

"Yes, Josephine. I appreciate all you and everyone – Cullen, Cassandra – everything you did for me and others during the Inquisition...I can never thank you enough," Leone said, taking time to hold eye contact with each member. "You all mean so much to me, I want you to know that."

"Thank you, Inquisitor," Cullen said, his smile spreading across his rough features softly. He was a handsome man, Leone had thought that at their first meeting. But her love for him was never more than an affectionate kindness. There had been moments...but she knew there was someone else waiting for him.

"If you ever have need for an ambassador again, dear Inquisitor, I will be delighted to hear from you," Josephine added as well, her eyes looking forlorn.

"Can we get on with this already?" said Cassandra, shifting awkwardly in the room.

"Of course," laughed Leone, placing the documents out for them, "These here are the documents requested to disband the Inquisition. I have elected to keep Skyhold as a personal estate of mine, retaining some workers who elect to stay once we have dissolved. I relinquish all rights and powers given to me as the Inquisitor and fully support the new Divine. All of you are welcome to use Skyhold as temporary lodging or home until you find elsewhere to stay in my absence.

I have already elected a retainer to watch over my estate while I am gone as I plan to be in the coming months. Please do notify me when you leave or have found employment elsewhere, Varric will know how to contact me during my investigations. While I will be far, if any of you ever require assistance again and I am able I will do all in my power to aid you," Leone swore, bringing her hand to her chest earnestly.

"I appreciate that," Cassandra said softly, "Are you certain...of this choice?" she asked, her voice softer than usual but still curt and to the point. Her dark eyes held Leone's.

"Yes, I am," Leone said with finality, her face set firmly.

"Understood, I too wish to thank you...you have been the leader I've always dreamed of falling in step with but never quite imagined," Cassandra said with a smirk. Her smile faded suddenly, "Do not lose sight of yourself in your journey. That is all I ask of you." The mood took a solemn turn, her point clear as to how she felt about Lavellan's goal to save her lover from himself.

"Dear friend, I will think of your words every day," she promised, risking a rebuff from the Seeker as she gently reached to hold her hand briefly then released it just as quickly.

"When do you leave?" Cullen asked, his left hand resting atop his sheathed sword at his hip.

"Tomorrow morning. I need to pack my things today and prepare for the trip ahead," Leone said, watching Josephine organize the pages in a subtle manner to easily separate them later at her desk. "Varric planned a feast for tonight as a farewell celebration. He will take part of the journey with me, then it will just be Dorian, Bull and I after."

"It has been an honor, Inquisitor," Cullen said, taking her hand into a sturdy shake and Josephine followed suit. Lavellan smiled at each of them, taking a breath to memorize their faces and their smiles.

"I expect to see all of you tonight," she said, trying to ease the tense melancholy in the air. Cullen and Josephine laughed while Cassandra simply smiled as Lavellan turned to leave. Sadness etched its way across her heart but a bolt of excitement as well – she was no longer leading the organization and a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. With the doors of the War Council Room closing behind her, Lavellan released a timid sigh of relief. Next, she would be off to visit Dagna, check on the last minute equipment she had requested and check her pack again. Her eyes skimmed the ornate hall the throne room had become and it was wonderful knowing she need not pass judgment in the coming months. Guards still lingered in the hall, performing their duties while uncertain of the next steps they would take. A few would remain on the payroll, as some of the workers remained and sold their wares. Down the steps to the undercroft Lavellan smiled to see the excited dwarf woman adding one last buff to the weapons she had enchanted.

"Good morning," Lavellan said, her eyes glancing as always to the large waterfall ahead. She enjoyed the peace and tranquility down here in Skyhold.

"Good day, I have all your new equipment ready. Give it a whirl," Dagna spoke excitedly, handing out the long, shimmering sword to Lavellan who gently reached for it. She shifted the handle in her palm, feeling the weight of the handle then making small circular motions with the blade. It was light, strong and glimmered with the light spilling through the cave entrance.

"Wonderful masterwork as always, Dagna," Lavellan said performing a few more twisting and thrusting maneuvers with the sword. "Gorgeous."

"Compliments are appreciated," Dagna said, her face glowing with pleasure at the compliments.

"If you change your mind, you can stay here," Lavellan said, placing the sword back on the table to look at the shield Dagna had crafted.

"I'll return, but I wanted to go on a journey myself before I settle back in," Dagna said and graciously lifted the shield Lavellan had requested. She could sense the elf's apprehension. "Have you used a shield in some time?"

"Not since…," Lavellan lifted her prosthetic arm in a waving gesture, allowing the image to finish her sentence.

"No worries, many soldiers have done well once they've gotten used to the feel again," Dagna stated, holding the shield out to Lavellan. For a moment she hesitated again but then the metallic arm reached out to hold the shield and bring it in close to her body. It had been so long, she missed the security her shield brought to her in battle. _Silly,_ she thought, _something so simple could comfort me again_. Her actions weren't as swift in her left hand as before, her body still adjusting to the magic in the arm and allowing her thoughts to flow. Now, she had to use her mind instead of just muscle memory in the throes of battle.

"Ah, Dagna, I shall miss you a great deal," Lavellan said, resting the shield beside the sword. At times she forced herself to look closely at her new arm, the black metal shining in the sunlight that filtered through the cave. Bits of magic and gems held the contraption together and allowed it to function smoothly, a retirement gift from Vivienne and Dorian.

"We'll meet again. You'll always need a shinier sword," Dagna said laughing, "Especially when you meet...well…," Dagna trailed off. Lavellan nodded, forcing the smile to stay on her face as she knew where the dwarf was heading. _When I meet Solas...Fen'Harel...whatever I am to call him._ She sighed and gave a parting wave to the dwarf, "Please send those to my room, just going to finish my rounds for the day. Thank you."

"You're most welcome," Dagna said excitedly, running a loose, worn cloth over the shield one last time and sheathing the sword into its ornate sheath. It was one of her best pieces, the blade was enchanted with defensive and healing spells for its owner so that the wielder could regenerate faster in battle. A tiny secret between the two was that the blade could also heal when not in battle, helping restore burns or even slowly mend a broken bone. While the scabbard was nothing shiny, Dagna had looked up some Dalish artwork and weaponry to complement the Inquisitor's heritage. She knew...tough and gentle as Lavellan's leadership was being a lead amongst the masses had not been easy as a Dalish elf. No matter the length of their separation, Dagna wanted to bestow a blessing upon the slender elf who had borne so many trials and would continue to do so. Tenderly, Dagna cast her own prayer upon the blade and made her way to the Inquisitor's room.

The rest of the day passed in a blur before Lavellan. She was checking storage and bidding farewell to some of her compatriots. Horsemaster Dennet was leaving for home come morning and she gave him one of her favorite mounts as a present. This also was a way to release her mount into a life of peace after war. She could not part with her Giant Nug, but Leliana had promised to check in on that most intriguing mount every so often. Kindly, Blackwall offered to devote his protection to Skyhold in her absence once he took his own small journey to tie up some loose ends.

It was nearing dusk when she finally had stopped by her room again, cleaning up the space for when she did return. She would...eventually. Her pack was tight and clothes pressed into compact space. An oiled tent was strapped to the bottom of her pack as well as a water skein. A timely rap on her door preceded the sound of Dorian coming in.

"I'm decent," Lavellan said with a smirk as he was already halfway up her stairwell.

"Do you think that would matter, dear. You have quite the physique, maybe in another world," he said giving her an exaggerated wink. She laughed, but turned away abruptly pretending to check her pack one last time. His words had been too similar to Solas's. Within a breath she had turned and smiled brightly at him again.

Before she could speak, "He doesn't deserve you darling." With a wavering smile she nodded gently to him.

"Ah – but what would you do for love, dear Dorian?" she asked gently, coming closer and hugging him. Smelling his wonderful perfume and feeling his warm arms encapsulate her.

"What wouldn't I do?" he chuckled, running his hands over her hair. "Come, let us have another dinner before our arduous journey tomorrow," he said with a smirk, pulling her gently with him as if he were her escort.

"I wouldn't call playing hide the banana with Bull arduous," Lavellan said softly and was awarded a high gasp from Dorian in mock pain.

"My dear, innocent little elven warrior. What could you be insinuating?" he inquired, shaking his head, "If you're interested in some bananas...maybe some fine soldiers could help you." He said with a wink and she slapped him gently as they made their way downstairs to the group. She took a few steps at a time, leaping like the light hart she would ride occasionally, but Dorian preferred to walk eloquently down to the Herald's Rest. While she waited for him to sashay she caught up to the figure who had been at the foot of the stairs, Vivienne.

"Oh, my dear, as vivacious as ever," Vivienne greeted Lavellan coolly, her tone friendly enough but her arched brow clearly expressing her opinion.

"Not all of us have the poise of a classical beauty such as yourself," Lavellan teased Vivienne.

"You flatter me my dear," Vivienne conceded with a soft smirk, entering the tavern with Lavellan close behind. The circle mage would not stay long Lavellan knew this for certain, but the woman did enjoy observing the antics of the others. It was no surprise to hear Iron Bull calling for another round, two mugs emptied before him already, while being surrounded by Krem, Varric, Cullen, Cole, and Josephine. Sera leaned on Iron Bull's shoulder, whispering into his ear as Vivienne drew near and the duo chuckled. Dorain came in just as Vivienne picked a chair near the table and as her bottom skirted the seat Sera released a loud, rumbling mimic of a fart from her lips.

"Well, dear, I shall not want for your talents once I've returned home," Vivienne said icily, arching her neck and brow. "Blackwall, dear, would you grab me a glass of wine since the others are...rather far gone already?" Vivienne requested of the man who had recently returned from ordering his own tankard.

"Certainly, my lady," he said with out the slightest slur and Lavellan took in his lightly flushed cheeks. He glanced her way as he turned and Lavellan blushed, recalling a few of the light flirtations she had graced him with their first few travels together. She shifted on her feet and smoothly fitted herself between Cole and Krem.

"Boss!" shouted Iron Bull, her eyes widening in surprise as he drew her attention, his one eye staring intently at her, "I must say, you have bigger balls than any dragon I've ever seen. And you're much more...pleasing to the eyes." He finished his words with a wink and raise of his glass. A few cheers ran around the table and Dorian had settled next to the Qunari with a slight huff.

"I see, is that how it is?" Dorian moaned, shaking his head, "Bull...we've already discussed this, the lady is far more interested in this specimen of fine," he said gesturing eloquently at himself, "than your brusque attentions." Looking quite pleased at himself he quickly took Iron Bull's remaining drink for himself. Lavellan chuckled lightly, sipping from a tankard that Blackwall had returned with as well as Vivienne's glass of wine – which the mage of course rubbed the lips of the glass with a dainty finger and frown.

"I don't recall being brusque last night when you woke me from sleep for a ride," Iron Bull said pointedly, in a voice all too sober for someone who had been slurring a moment ago. Lavellan choked on her drink, as well as others at the table who had been caught off guard. She sighed once she could breath again and basked in the love that surrounded her.

A soft song from the enchanting performer beckoned all of the gang to listen, Cassandra appeared quietly and led workers to deposit steaming bowls of food on the table. She sat beside Varric, eyeing him suspiciously as she grabbed a steaming roll for her plate. Smoky air flowed in the wooden tavern, hazing lazily above the freshly baked food but not covering up the sumptuous smell of lemon covered fish and gravy ponds layered on potatoes. Strawberry tarts and blueberry pie settled in the middle which Lavellan quickly grabbed a piece of each before Varric could notice.

With her mouth full Lavellan took in the scene with warmth flooding her heart. The drunken Blackwall was laughing and simultaneously chastising Sera while Dorian and Iron Bull tried to one up embarassing each other. Vivienne attempted to speak with Varric a bit but grew bored and spoke with Josephine about politics and the meaning behind certain furniture accents. Cole slowly slipped into conversations here and there adding some extra flavor to the interactions. Soon the night was over and Lavellan returned to her quiet bedroom, anxious and yet exhausted enough to pass out once her sleek cheek touched the pillow.


	3. Chapter 2: Begin Again

Chapter 2: Begin Again

After a few weeks of traveling with her friends Iron Bull, Dorian, and Varric, Lavellan came to realize living at Skyhold had not only spoiled her in terms of facilities but also space. Most of their travels might take weeks but then she could return home...to Skyhold...lay in those plush sheets and bask in quiet repose. Now, every other night she'd be waken by the raucous lovemaking between the Qunari and mage – creators knew where they found the energy after trekking all day – and other times she would slowly become tired of Varric's tales.

It never crossed her mind she would grow weary of their voices.

But here she sat, weeks into their trip and they were halfway through Nevarra territory on their way to the Tevinter capital. She had no notes or letters, only the words of Varric to promise her contact would be set up and have a place to stay for her work. He had said little of the contact he had located for her except that, "...he's a bit more charming than before he met his love. She's helped calm his temperament, especially to mages, but he's still a bit of a snappy elf."

A few nights ago she had asked warily, gazing into the flaming campfire, "What reason has he to help me? I don't even know his name." Varric had gazed toward the warrior thoughtfully, pressing a hand to his chin. "You'll meet him soon enough, but suffice it to say he's no fan of the Tevinter Imperium and he's quite familiar with who you are," Varric finally permitted himself to reveal, tossing a branch he'd been picking at into the fire.

"Do you know him well?"

"I'd say we're best friends," Varric chortled, leaning against the hand resting on his knee as his smile widened, "Not that he'd say that."

"Who wouldn't want to be your best friend?" Lavellan teased, her lips tightly compressing to suppress laughter.

"Cassandra, perhaps?" he arched a brow.

"Oh, hush, she adores you," the elf slapped his arm playfully. "After all, I do hope you won't entirely give up on romance novels. She's your number one fan." Lavellan wiggled her brows suggestively at him.

"Hmmm, who do you think should be the stars in my next one, then? Josephine and Cullen...perhaps Blackwall and that cute little dwarf that I've seen admire his carpentry...or…," Varric lowered his voice conspiratorially, "...the forbidden flame of desire bobbing so delicately between the lips of our scarred Qunari and his vivacious lover from Tevinter." Something wild gleamed in Varric's eyes and Lavellan could not determine if he was teasing or truly imagining the tales he would write.

"It would be scandalous...Cassandra would be dying to read it," Lavellan supported Varric, watching the tent with the two sleeping males. One could only hope they were sleeping with how loud their moans had been the night before.

"Delightful," he said to himself, "I'll consider writing it once I've returned from this jaunt in Nevarra territory."

"You still intend to return to Kirkwall once you've helped us to the Tevinter border?"

"Yes...I've heard and seen a bit of how they treat their lower citizens...particularly their slaves. I have no intention of dwelling in that land too long. I hope...I hope it doesn't diminish your spirit to see how the elves are truly dwelling there if they are slaves. Although it may be worse to see the lengths other elves will go to elevate themselves and their families above the slave caste," Varric said, the air of frivolity dissipating from around him.

"I must do something, Varric," she responded firmly, but her face still held a smile for him.

"...I understand, Beasty," he teased, waving to her as he moved to his own tent. She laughed at his nickname for her and waved him off. She stood first watch that evening, ruminating on her plans once they woke for morning. A few chirps and rasps of insects provided ambient noise and the wind blew only slightly allowing the evening to chill in a soothing manner. Her armor kept her warm enough outside near the fire and she leaned back on a nearby rock to stare at the night sky.

Once they made it to the Tevinter Imperium, Dorian had made agreements to stay with his family for a few days with her as his guest. She would simply savor the time at the Pavus residence and become more familiar with the atmosphere surrounding the notorious land. For awhile they had discussed changing her appearance, but luckily most people did not recognize her right away if they had not met her before. Her eyes were notably remarked in tales of the Herald, but also shared was the knowledge that she was Dalish. Thus, her missing vallaslin made most people walk past without notice. Particularly since she had worn her vallaslin for months as the Inquisitor and they had only disappeared once she had become a tale, an icon for the people. A few of the rumors were that she wore makeup to cover her Dalish heritage when dealing with the human nobles and the like, similar to the rumors that she slept with most of the Orlaisian nobility to win favor.

She sighed, changing her view to look over the other side of her where the distant rolling hills continued. All was quiet, but her mind raced rapidly about her contact in Tevinter, where he had established their base of operations, and if there would be any information on the Elvhen foci that might have been found within Tevinter borders. Another part of her tensed at the idea of encountering the slavery instilled within its borders.

Hopefully, her plans would come to fruition and the Imperium would not have many slaves much longer. She smiled at that, her thoughts drifting and for once enjoying the still evening save for some insects chirping in the background enticing prospective mates.

The rest of her watch was spent trying not to fall asleep, sharpening her sword as quietly as possible and snacking on some crusty bread from her travel pouch. Little flavor remained in the pieces and it crunched loudly between her white teeth. Again she examined the map Varric and Leliana had joined forces to procure for her with detailed locations of important areas within Tevinter. Minrathous was to be the base of her operations with her contact. She would be a free elf tradesman, secretly routing her work and trading via Skyhold under different aliases. Then undercover she would research and utilize fresh scouts, reaching fast and hard to free the slaves that she could – hopefully before Solas's reach grew farther out from Thedas. It might already have, she thought with a frown creasing her clear brow.

"Shouldn't I be frowning?" Dorian spoke from her left side. She had noticed him approaching but had held off greeting him to trade watch, he was far less charming when newly awoken.

"Of course, dearest," Lavellan chirped, although her own fatigue was setting in and she welcomed his replacing her as she was ready to drop. "Shout if you need me," she reminded him, patting him on the shoulder as he leaned back with only a grump in response.

As she entered her tent she saw him casting a light spell, only the faint flicker of red over his staff giving a hint. He always created a barrier around their camp during his watch and the shimmer of it made something in the distance illuminate. Probably a stray animal, Lavellan considered, then she crawled into her tent and lay down.

In what seemed like only a few more days they reached the border with the Imperium. She knew this would be the last camp together with Varric and Iron Bull. After tonight Iron Bull would escort Varric back to safety before sending word of his next move. Before he planned to return he would have to take at least an odd job or two, so he would inform them of how long before he'd come to check on his lover. Afterwards, Lavellan would also be implementing Bull and the Chargers into her operations once things had settled within the Imperium. Lavellan was friends with all of them, but Varric's light hearted behavior helped for moments of levity when Dorian might be too dramatic or Bull too blunt at times.

Camp that night was a bit calmer than usual, Varric pushing forward with his tales but soon it was only Varric and Lavellan as the two lovers took to their tent for some personal time before their separation. Bull had spoken softly to Dorian as the two meandered off to their tent and Dorian had lost some of his sparkling cheer as the day had worn on.

"Varric?" Lavellan asked suddenly, sipping from a small cup of water.

"What is it, care for another tale?" he asked, sounding even a bit weary himself. He'd be taking first watch this night. The hairy chested dwarf was sipping from a flask instead, claiming he felt a bit chilled in the evening as they ventured north. He'd even covered his body with a plush jacket over his armor. She had not noticed the chill but usually she sweat under her armor and this day she had not.

"Do you still think of Bianca?" she asked suddenly and noted his darkened expression immediately. "Sorry," she blurted, "I was just curious – I shouldn't have asked."

He sighed, tipping back his flask. Lavellan stood, thinking it may be time she turned in since she had lost some social grace. Just as she opened her mouth to bid goodnight, he spoke.

"All the time. I do not know what will come of us. Isn't it silly?" he laughed sadly, sounding bitter as he turned to face her. "I cannot think of a single one of us in our band who hasn't been betrayed by someone we trusted beyond doubt – no matter what others might say," he said, his eyes bright and shining in the firelight. Silence drifted over the duo and Lavellan came over to him.

"I still love her," he whispered so faint, Lavellan was certain if she had not been an elf she would have missed the words taken by the wind. Swiftly she crouched and gently, despite her armor, wrapped her lanky, strong arms around her dear friend.

"I still love him," she confessed, her voice low, as his own muscled arms clasped her in a tender hug. "I can understand," she assured him, feeling a wave of love wash over her knowing that she was not alone in her torment before she added, "Even if she did threaten to rip my eyeballs out if anything happened to you."

That garnered the chortle she expected and the solemn atmosphere that had drifted over them evaporated. "Well, good thing you keep your promises. Chuckles had quite a thing for those eyes of yours," Varric teased back, still chuckling as they released each other. "He'd always go brood in his books and research whenever someone else made you laugh or caught your attention."

"I shall miss you constantly, won't you come visit Tevinter, eventually?" Lavellan begged, clasping his hand within her two. He laughed, leaned over into his larger pack and pulled out a book.

"I've brought a copy of Swords and Shields for you as well – I know Cassandra isn't my only fan, or so Chuckles told me at one time. I thought I'd save it for now. Depending on how long you stay, I may come visit, as your contact has some other friends who will likely drag me along," he said, a crooked smirk crossing his face under his broken nose.

"...wouldn't be a certain Champion would it?" Lavellan inquired, holding the book carefully in the crook of her arm.

"Shhhhh...don't tell all my secrets," he said, "Now off to bed, Beasty." He shooed her away and fluffed the collar of his jacket back up. She smiled and did as he said, her heart already aching a bit thinking of his absence as she dragged her feet to her tent. It took some time to fall asleep, her hair loose and covering parts of her face as she stared into darkness. Tonight she could not even blame Iron Bull and Dorain for being loud – surprisingly – and instead her thoughts drifted to Solas. Of late she had done well, only thinking of him in regards to how his efforts would affect her own operation but occasionally she would lay alone in the dark and remember the few times she had fallen asleep in his arms.

Despite her having more muscle and him being a mage, his body had felt strong and hard against her still, encasing her in warmth. Nights when it was chilled she sorely missed those arms.

When morning came Iron Bull and Dorian separated easily enough, a stolen kiss and pat on the ass before parting. Dorian's quiet demeanor was more of a telltale sign that he'd miss Bull than anything else. Iron Bull was harder to read in that way and stood by Varric's side.

"Until we meet again, Beasty," Varric chimed, "And Sparkler, stay fabulous!" He winked at both of them and turned to lead Iron Bull eastward towards Kirkwall. They lumbered only so far before Lavellan turned to her lone companion now.

"Dorian, shall we head onward?"

"Yes, yes, dear. I'll just be a gloomy cloud for today I must warn you. What say you, we invest in some mounts since it's only two of us now, eh?" Dorian asked, already feeling the ache in his calves as they began their trek into the Imperium border.

"Certainly, have any ideas?"

"Well, I do know a fascinating young man in Solas – not your broody boy toy – but the city. He might be willing to part with a few mounts for a fair price. I could even have it charged to my wonderful parents. As a...welcome home present from me to myself," he said, perking up a bit at the idea. She laughed at the name of the city – she had noted it on their map as well.

"What are the cities like compared to Orlais and Ferelden?"

"Well...it's delightful, the tone is a bit headier and darker. Full of power and people itching to display it so the architecture is quite intriguing as well as the fashions. Not as simple as the Ferelden with their mabari fascination, but also not as ridiculous as the obscure Orlaisian masks that are in fashion. I dare say, even Solas's servant helmet looked far more fashionable compared to those hammer hats. Although I do say those Orlaisians can make a decent bed and meal," Dorian said thoughtfully, using his ornate staff to assist with walking as they continued up a steep hill as they entered a thin forest.

"What is the weather like?"

"About the same, summers can get just as warm although it rains a bit more and the winters are quite harsh. Think the Emprise du Lion but all over," Dorian explained to her.

The rest of their travels continued thus, swapping stories here and there. How Dorian had fallen madly in love with an elven servant in his youth and had a torrid love affair. Then Lavellan and her crush on a fellow elf, only to be disgusted later by certain views he held as her place in the clan. They discussed parents and their favorite fashions. Every so often the two of them wound encounter bandits, angry bears or violent apostates who would charge at them blindly. With so much experience Lavellan would nearly dispatch all of the enemies before Dorain could cast a fireball or explosion. Soon she started to purposefully move slow so he could cast at least one flashy spell or two before the fights were over. Every night they would lay near each other for warmth and comfort, taking turns keeping the watch and within days they had arrived at Solas.

True to his word they were able to acquire two mounts, both geldings of even temperament. Dorian was able to forward the bill to the Pavus family, his friend had barely even blinked at the notion and simply said, "It's good to see you again, Dorian." There was a warm familiarity to his tone and Lavellan smiled deviously at Dorian for some time until they were far from the seller's home.

"Oh, shut it Lavellan – I know you've had your fair share of lovers in your time," Dorian said, a slightly red flush to his cheeks. He glared at Lavellan who had gone a bit quiet.

The silence went on for a bit and she had looked off into the distance.

"Lavellan...don't tell me...are you?" he asked, quirking a delicate brow and nearly bringing his fingers to twirl his mustache. Gods, she wasn't ashamed but it was always embarassing to be asked this.

"Yes…," she sighed heavily, her face crossed in annoyance.

"Well, I'll be!" he cried, shock showing on his face. "I thought...well, with the Dalish being so free…," he trailed off as she glared at him. "I just...I can't imagine how someone like you has gone so long without engaging in such gratification," he finally expressed as his thoughts became more clear.

"It was never that I didn't want to...or that I had no prospects..."

"I can think of half of Skyhold who'd have offered their services alone," Dorian quipped up.

"...but the point is I simply didn't want to. Yes, many Dalish are free lovers, but my clan was a bit different. Even within such a different clan, I too stood out. I will share what I can with others, but to me my body is of my own will – I choose when and who I will share it with," she supplied simply. "It's not really complicated, but people do seem quite stunned when it is brought up and it makes me feel uncomfortable."

"I apologize dear," Dorian quickly spoke, seeing the torn look on her face.

"No, it was simply a curious question. I know you meant nothing by it," she said with a smile as they continued onward.

"...although, if I may?"

"Huh, what is it?"

"Well," Dorian said, his hand resting on his chin as the other held the reins loosely, "You and Solas spent so much time alone...I had thought for certain..."

"Ah!" Lavellan responded, her face flooded with heat and she shifted awkwardly in her saddle, "Nothing ever quite got that far." He seemed surprised and she snorted suddenly, fixing him with a raised brow, "You pervert."

"Dearest me! Speaking of judgments! I just thought as an educated, melancholy scholar that our dear friend Solas would have had his way with you. Especially how often I caught him staring at you. Not to mention those inappropriate sketches of his I...accidentally...um...saw," Dorain tutted, waving her off and trotting further ahead of her.

"What sketches?" she called out, interest piqued.

"Ooooohhhh…see who's the curious cat now?" he laughed, "Treat me to a drink at our next stop and I'll tell you all about them."

Luckily for Lavellan, Dorian couldn't keep his secrets to himself for long. That evening at camp she broke out her only flask of liquor and shared it between the two of them. Soon they would be nearly halfway to Minrathous within the Imperium border and already Dorian had met some familiar faces on the way. Casually he had introduced Lavellan as a Fereldan elf he had hired in one of the cities to escort him home.

"So...these sketches you spoke of," she prodded him, handing out the flask and glibly holding it back as she waited for a response.

"Darling! Come, share a bit of drink, it's getting chillier as we travel," he whined, and she complied, handing the already light flask to him. She waited for a breath as he sipped slowly at the opening, waiting for him to settle against the fallen tree they were currently reclining against. He took his sweet time and once he was fully comfortable again, passing the flask back to her he opened his mouth.

"There may have been a few occasions, by accident – of course -"

"Of course," Lavellan agreed devilishly smiling.

"Well, as Solas complemented your traveling band so well I got bored pacing the library whenever you'd leave without me. So I'd look over the frescoes, peruse some of his notes and books to see what interesting information may lie there. Usually boring shite, elven this and that – an artifact that MAY be located here said some delirious words from a thief – or a few social and political books on Fereldan, Orlais, Tevinter Imperium, and so on. I must say his notes on the shards were quite interesting."

Lavellan turned her face away slightly and exhibited a large yawn, pointedly winking at him.

"Fine, fine! I was setting the scene, my dear. As luck would have it, the little apostate or shall we call him Elvhen God? No matter – at the time our fashion challenged elf had left behind a sketchbook. I'd already seen the books he read, his notes and such but I'd never seen his sketchbook in the time we'd been at Skyhold. If I recall, it was not long after the flirtations between you two had taken quite a turn," Dorian wiggled his brows at her, beckoning for the flask again. "Come now, don't be greedy." She laughed and handed it back to him, awaiting more of his tale.

"I recall overhearing an interesting conversation, something about Fade tongue and a rather blustering hahren – if I'm pronouncing it correctly?" he mentioned smoothly before sipping from the flask.

"Yes," she breathed softly, her face turning down from his gaze for a moment.

"It was definitely after that, he'd given some passionate speech about tea and a friend, blah blah blah. Anyhow – I remember you agreeing to his request, how excited that cranky elf had looked and immediately you all took off. I think he must have forgotten to put it away wherever he usually kept it."

He took a final swig from the flask, shaking it a bit to reveal it was empty and then closed the seal on it once more to return it to Lavellan.

"Well, the first few pages weren't all that thrilling, a few notes on the anchor, your hand. His observations and notes on our travels, a few sketches. Then I noticed some cartoons of us, such as Varric with a pint and Cassandra reading. I didn't even notice there were more sketches of you. But then, just as I was about to stop looking..." he paused cheekily, gauging her interest.

"Dorian!" Lavellan begged, "Just tell me."

"...well, I saw these sketches of you that took up whole pages. Some were quite sweet, and while you are a vision of beauty these were obviously stylized by...a lover. Nothing naughty but it caught my eye all these sketches of you, doing mundane things. I delighted in this little find, intending to tease Solas when you both returned but then I realized I could not. For I flipped one too many pages and my dear girl, he is a dirty, dirty old man. Don't let that calm exterior fool you," Dorian howled with laughter and winked at her as her mouth dropped open.

"I'd say he may have restrained himself in reality but his imagination has definitely had you a number of times. The images were so detailed and realistic I had to fan myself for awhile after. I would have visited Iron Bull, but unfortunately he too had joined your band to help Solas's friend. Since then I saw Solas in a new light. It's always the quiet ones, my dear," he chuckled to himself, nearly crying with laughter and his eyes heavy with both humor and sleep.

She stared into the distance shocked. It had never crossed her mind. He had sketched her but those few times and that single painting. Lavellan had no idea he had that many images within his sketchbook including those of the erotic manner. Her hand came to her mouth as she began laughing, _what a pervert_. Together her and Dorian laughed into the still night, enjoying these moments of levity.


	4. Chapter 3: Culture Shock

Chapter 3: Culture Shock

The rest of their travel to Minrathous had returned to boring and mundane although more people had taken to staring at her more often and boldly. Some even inquired Dorian if she was his property. Her hackles had raised and the closer to the capital they became the more irritated she was in turn. By the time they had arrived the season had fully morphed and trees had begun to change their color and shed a few layers.

"Oh...oh my…," Lavellan gasped as she saw the walls of Minrathous near. The coast was calm, but the sea waves still crashed against the beaches in the distance. A few forests had edged the well worn traveling path but had cleared about a mile back. She had imagined a large wall, ornate like Orlais but this...this was different.

Tall, imposing walls made of brick stood in the distance with towers every few meters looking out over the land. In place of the gold and white of Orlais these walls had dark, worn brick the color of rust. Warriors and mages guarded the wall and a few farming homes lay on the outskirts but near enough to feel the protection of the guards. For now the portcullis into the city was open and the guards seemed a bit bored, monitoring the travelers coming in.

Growing tired of the looks thrown her way Lavellan had taken to wearing her hair down to cover her ears as well as a hood she would pull up around her face. Her thick armor helped to hide her lithe frame but the guards still stared down at them as Dorian and her walked past them into the bustling city.

Noises and smells had already assaulted her before they had crossed inside the city and she gazed at the awe inspiring structures, her neck craning to look up and around. Some were beautiful and intricate, first and foremost catching her eye was a cathedral into the distance but still near. She could recognize the build but the pillars were far sharper and more detailed than those she had seen as if the builder put the details into the frame, not in the paint as Orlais did. A large statue sat within the central pillar and just beneath that a full scene was carved within the stone itself. Deep within a desire to crawl up the pillars and reach to touch the scene filled her, the artistry was magnificent. That was only one of the vast buildings around her.

"Dorian..." she said, her voice tight in reverence as she looked to the other side, seeing simpler structures but each with a pride of its own. A small pub nearby had a subdued caramel color but deep, dark wooden shutters opened that revealed fine curtains. Attached was a small dining area that had benches separated from the throng of public by an ornate black iron fence. "...I've never seen such architecture."

"Yes, despite all the things people say about Tevinter and us Magisters, few fail to remember we've quite the architects and artists," Dorian said, a hint of pride edging his voice. "My home is just down this path he revealed, gesturing further down the brick road that also held the pub she had noticed, a sign on the fence read, "Burne's Bowl".

For some time they passed a few more of these buildings, a few even painted different colors burnt orange with designs along the bottom in black or dark red. Every so often a passerby would wave to Dorian and gaze briefly at Lavellan before continuing on in the hustle and bustle of the city, it felt like a hive with people buzzing by so quickly. She was trying to take it all in, the sights and the exotic smells that made her stomach quiver in anticipation for a meal. For a moment she forgot why she was her, what had brought her so far beyond the thrill.

And then she was reminded quickly.

Up ahead there was shouting and at first she was confused, a mob of people stood around a platform chattering excitedly. The large crowd was full of energy and on the wooden platform before her was a man garbed in dark, black armor, his helmet open revealing just enough to show dark green eyes. Another few guards stood on either side in similar armor but less embellished, with only one other man on stage with the guard. This man was obviously a wealthy merchant, wearing fine trousers and a blouse in fashion similar to Dorian's she had seen on occasion. He was an alright man in appearance, tanned and muscled, but with sandy blonde hair pulled into a loose braid. She wondering if his family had planned that in their 'pedigree' for his eyes were a brilliant blue as if taken from the sky.

"What is going on?" she questioned Dorian, grabbing his hand as she turned to the scene. Her gaze on the other man, she did not see Dorian pale considerably.

"It's a sale."

"What are they selling?" she asked, and just as she turned to look at Dorian after he had been silent a moment too long, the merchant opened his mouth. A feeling of dread had filled her before and hearing his liquor smooth words did nothing to stop the fear.

"Good day, my lovely people. Is it not a fine day to see only the greatest the Maker has provided us for labor and assistance in our times of need! I must say, in all my time here, this batch is one of the finest collection of stock we've ever had! Bring them forward!" he shouted, his eyes shining bright and a few people whispered amongst themselves about the people that came out.

Abject horror suffused Lavellan's body as she saw the 'stock' come out. She hadn't seen the small pens past the crowd or the people that were chained neck to neck that came up to the platform. Each and every one had little clothing to cover their body, all of them kept their eyes downcast with their lips sealed tight. First up were men, at least four of them elves and two humans, one of the humans had a fresh welt along his hip. Her hand twitched towards the sword Dagna had enchanted for her, Dorian saw the move and held her hand.

"We should go, Lavellan," he suggested, watching her eyes fill. Someone to the left of them was staring and she didn't care. Turning to Dorian, her face seething and her red eyes ablaze she gritted through her teeth.

"I'm not LEAVING yet," she snarled, pushing his hand away. Slowly, she inhaled through her nose and exhaled, trying to calm herself as the outburst had caused two other nearby strangers to stare at her. Dorian kept quiet, even after all this time she had never seen him look so uncomfortable – and to be honest she could care less. "Can we buy any of them?" she finally asked, watching as the merchant sold of one of the elves and the wounded human.

"...perhaps a few, but...there are so many," he confessed, "They usually have three waves of each slave type. Usually by young males, young females, children, and then the elderly." Lavellan's frown deepened and she began to think Dorian's suggestion might be best. Standing here, wanting to slaughter all these people and the seller...it would do nothing for their future if she failed here. Her eyes tracked the crowd, finally seeing the other "stock" available and she heard the echoes of another bid.

"Take me away from here," she agreed, feeling shame and despair flood her. Dorian grabbed her hand and pulled her from the crowd, gently but briskly pulling her along. She couldn't look with admiration at the architecture anymore or the allure of their exotic fashion. All she could see in her mind were the eyes...beneath the spirits might linger, but the body had shutdown the windows to the soul for protection.

 _Was that what Solas felt like all the time?_

The rest of their walk was silent until they arrived before an eloquent, three-storied estate. Lavellan was stone faced but noted the guards flanking the arched entryway which opened before the travelers had made it up the wide, stone steps leading to the door. A woman in a tightly fitted black gown decorated with golden lace stepped from the shadowy depths of the home. Black hair was pulled up in a crown braid with bits of gray intermingling.

"Dorian," she said, her chocolate eyes sparkled and she smiled gently. Her arms spread out to her son and Dorian sighed then smiled.

"Mother," he called out, slowly walking up to embrace her.

It was touching to Lavellan, seeing them hold each other after such a long absence and a bitter parting between Dorian and his family. The female Pavus clenched him slightly within her arms and then released. After stepping back a moment she began to speak rapidly and soon, despite all her charm and fancy, Lavellan was reminded of a mother hen.

"What were you thinking, darling, coming all this way on foot and mount? And look at your clothes, they are so worn and dirty – if you could use our names to charge for fresh mounts you may as well have bought you and your companion a set of better traveling clothes!" she chastised him and then turned to greet Lavellan, "Now introduce me to your guest."

While the reunion had been sweet, Lavellan didn't miss the slight glimmer of surprise in the woman's eyes when she finally looked upon her and she knew her eyes had shifted to her ears.

"This is my friend Leone. She'll be just staying this evening and then will be opening her shop tomorrow. Despite her size, she's quite the formidable swordsman and has saved my lovely neck more times than I can count," Dorian embellished, stroking his long neck purposely as his mother sighed, rolling her eyes at him. Turning to Lavellan, Dorian supplied her with, "This my dear friend is Victoria Pavus, my dear mother."

The two women shook hands a bit stiffly and Lavellan was impressed the woman managed so well – it seemed she was still a bit taken aback by her son's elven companion.

"Your rooms were prepared, Mona will lead you both. And you and I son," she said, placing a stiff hand on his shoulder, "We shall have a family discussion this evening. I have heard little from you and most of what I've heard have been rumors except for the contact your father was able to make."

"Yes, yes. May I go wash now, while I may be a work of art I still sweat and smell like foul shit at the moment," Dorian said plainly and his mother gasped only a bit.

"Be sure to wash that mouth as well, I pray Ferelden hasn't made you abrasive," she said, frowning and from the shadows came Mona. Lavellan's hands twitched slightly and the memory of the slave auction was too fresh to ignore. This slave woman was dressed impeccably and even looked similar to the noble Pavus woman, but her demeanor was incredibly submissive and she only looked up sparingly at the three of them as she walked forward. It began to infuriate Lavellan and she began to wonder how many slaves the Pavus family kept.

"This way, master," Mona said, tipping her head forward and turning to lead the two inside.

At least the man blanched slightly but followed the slave woman nonetheless and Lavellan wanted to choke with the anger building inside. All she could think of was slavery and thus missed any of the beauty to be had in the bold, vibrant paintings that adorned the walls and the elaborate tile designs in the floor. Instead everything appeared dirty and tainted as the beautiful woman leading them walked with her head tilted downward and silent. She was human, tanned but a bit broader in the shoulders than Dorian's mother. Instead of black hair, hers was a dirty blonde and braided in a plait.

A few halls and doors down Mona stopped and turned to them and Lavellan was able to view her face once more, the green eyes and freckles upon them.

"Here are your rooms, master and guest. Others have finished preparing your baths, just ring a bell and we shall come to clean and remove the bathing tubs," Mona informed the mage and champion. She began to walk away and Lavellan turned to Dorian.

"How many slaves are in this house?" she inquired, trying to keep her voice stable.

"...probably at least thirty…," he revealed, tapping his right foot lightly and crossing his arms.

"Did this never occur to you as being wrong, Dorian? That woman who just left was human, herself. One of your own?" she questioned, her own arms crossing. His lips turned down with his mustache.

"Now, it is far more apparent but when this is the live and society you've been a part of since birth...it is difficult to see the issues," he conceded, lines furrowing above his brow.

Lavellan stood silently for a moment then spoke again.

"Please, I do not wish to dine and have a group of servants waiting on me this evening. I am honestly more overwhelmed than I'd like to admit. Please send some fruit and bread, I just wish to bathe and sleep. Today...today has been too much," she confessed, her lips trembling. Dorian's arms uncrossed and he came to hold her but she twitched just slightly so he stopped.

"Do not worry, Beasty," he said softly, "I am a fool for not thinking how shocking it would be, this is a vastly different society than any you have been part of so far."

"I don't wish to be part of one like this," she stated firmly, and timidly moved to wrap her arms around him and then embraced him. "Thank you for accompanying me here to the capital," she said and withdrew, his arms releasing her so she may enter her room.

"Think nothing of it my dear. I hope I can show off more of Minrathous to you in...better circumstances," he confessed, his face more solemn than she had seen. At this time she was too fatigued to comfort him and nodded with a fake smile before she closed the door behind her.

He covered his face with both hands, his shoulders drooping and a servant down the hall called out to him, "Master Pavus?"

"It's nothing," he said gently, removing his hands from his face and turning down the ornate, empty hall.

Within her room, Lavellan signed and made it halfway to the bed before she collapsed to her knees. Frustrated tears squeezed from between her lids and her chest ached, for once her thoughts didn't broach the topic of Solas. Her mind kept replaying the scene of the 'market' and it horrified her. The Exalted Marches….that had been painful, but they were also history. Slave markets in Tevinter, those had been mentioned and discussed. This was one of the first times she had seen the extent of what her less empowered brethren were reduced to. A darkness coursed rapidly within her veins and she focused on steadying her breathing as she removed her layers of armor.

In her mind she missed the calm serenity of the room. A small, warm desk settled by a window with pine green shutters that filtered light through the faint vines crossing it. Her bed was simple but of the same wood as the smooth chocolate desk. Plump pillows lay against the headboard and flowers had been placed in the vase on her nightstand. Just as she had set aside the armor carefully a gentle rapping came at her door.

"Miss, are you decent?" softly came from beyond it.

"Yes, you may enter," Lavellan replied, pulling her traveling boots off. Two maids walked in carrying first a small wooden tub and then they both walked back out to fetch the steaming water buckets. Quickly they came and left just as silently, leaving behind some worn towels for the strange elf in the room. Neither had dared to glance at her too long, she took note, and both seemed to be relatively healthy in appearance. There was little else that Lavellan could think to do at this time, soon enough she'd have her hands full so she plunged into the steaming water. Its heat stung a bit but after a few seconds her body relaxed and she rinsed the grime and dirt from her body's crevices and her long locks.

"Perhaps I should just chop it all off," she mused, getting annoyed with the clumps of loose hair in her hand. Initially, she thought she had done well keeping clean most of the trip but observing the water after proved her quite wrong as it had turned cloudy from her bathing. Part of her felt ashamed she had enjoyed it so when she saw the servants come. At first she went to assist them in moving the tub but one of them had gently whispered to her.

"Please, mistress, we'll get in trouble if we don't show proper courtesy to the guests," was her soft warning and she gently patted Lavellan's callused hand away. With that, Lavellan waited for them to leave and she lay in her soft bed brooding over how to calm her riotous feelings. Exhaustion abruptly solved her problems, for with the traveling, stress and anxiety had worn her down so that the moment her head fell against those plump pillows she had plunged into a deep sleep.

In her dreams she saw the wolf in the distance as always...within reach but not quite. Tonight thought she didn't have the energy and she simply sat down and fell back. It was her dream after all, perhaps her brain was playing tricks or it might be him truly, but in her own dreams she would find rest.

Morning broke through faster than Lavellan had hoped. Her recent memories flooded her bitterly so her mood was already a tad bitter on awakening. It was Dorian's voice that had roused her so early.

"Darling, we'll be having breakfast shortly. I'll come back to fetch you and escort you to the dining room," he shouted through the door. Groaning, Lavellan opened her satchel, pulling out the spare clothes she had saved for now. She'd be placed in her new hiding spot soon, so she'd be able to wash the clothes she had worn for days upon days soon. Feeling impatient she dumped the satchel out and collected the breast band, underclothes and blouse.

Suddenly she froze.

Her mind was flooded with confusion but she then she remembered. This satchel – Cole had found it left behind he had said. She had thought he meant a merchant or traveler. But among her pile of clothes she now saw a smooth, weathered wolf's jawbone with straps of leather intertwined about it like a pendant. His necklace. Just as quickly she pushed everything she wasn't using back into the satchel, her face burning as Dorian's voice came through the door again.

Breakfast was a congenial affair, Dorian's mother was polite and enchanting. Her voice held a feminine lilt that mimicked Dorian's own inflections but with a sharper eye and lids that fluttered more graciously when she spoke. In comparison Dorian's father who appeared later into the meal was more reserved and quiet, speaking occasionally but otherwise supporting his wife's conversation.

"Where are you off to today, son?" his father inquired once the servants had come to remove their empty plates from the dining table. Lavellan could not help but organize her plate and silverware in a simple manner at least as the servants gathered the clutter.

"I'll be escorting Leone here to her new merchant shop, her partner has already invested in the building so it's pretty much up and running," Dorian explained, sipping steaming tea from the cup before him.

"Impressive, my dear," his mother said excitedly, "What's the name of your shop? Have you decided?"

"I allowed my partner to choose and surprise me," Lavellan stated, her mind hoping her mysterious contact had done well since settling into the shop.

"We shall make time to visit then," Victoria decided adamantly. "Dorian of course will lead us."

"Yes, mother. I do believe we shall be leaving soon, though. I will return before evening," Dorian provided her a notice, finishing his cup of tea with a final sip. Then he stood from the table as his mother pouted ever so slightly.

"Well, next time feel free to stay with us longer," Victoria suggested, her jeweled hand gesturing openly to Lavellan. "I know we have only had a few moments together," she said with a smile, placing a hand on her chest, "But I would like to get to know you better at another time, darling."

"Yes, of course. I appreciate you allowing me to impose on you for an evening," Lavellan said, following Dorian to the threshold of the dining room.

"It was no imposition at all. My dear Mona, please bring the small bundle of snacks and food for Dorian and his guest."

"Oh, madam, you don't need -

"Shhh, my dear child. You're moving somewhere new and exciting, think of it as a welcoming gift," Victoria endeared Lavellan as Mona came with a small wrapped bundle. "It's fresh scones, bread, some fruits and other random finds that we could have wrapped quickly."

"Thank you," Lavellan responded and turned to rush after Dorian who had already gone up the staircase to his room to collect his armor and such. Servants had just begun to bustle around the halls when Lavellan came out again, her shining armor and sword catching the eye of a few servants who had mastered the art of watching out of the side of their eyes. Only one was fresh enough that her mouth opened slightly as Lavellan walked past. Groaning quietly Lavellan figured the idea of a free elf was exotic enough let alone a 'merchant' elf garbed in some of the finest armor this side of the continent.

"Ready, Beasty?" Dorian called out, "I'm aging in this drafty house waiting on you." He smirked as she came down the steps slowly, him placing his hand on his hip in an exaggerated fashion.

"Perhaps that's because you are old," she said, standing eye to eye with him.

"Ooooh! I can see the draft in this house not only has left you chilled but chilled your heart as well," he said, snubbing her as he turned. "Let us go, find this mysterious contact of yours," he said in a much lower tone so only her elf ears could pick it up. While the stay had been the most luxurious since leaving Skyhold, Lavellan was eager to leave this manor and join the throng of people outside in the streets. "What is the address to your little shop, then?" Dorian questioned her as they both stood and took in the morning thrum of activity.

"It's located at 24 Tidar Lane, in the downtown area I was told," Lavellan supplied.

"Hmmm, a decent walk, but nothing compared to our trek here," Dorian teased, "Come, darling, follow me. I know the way easily enough."

Just to his left side she stayed near the mage as they made their way through. There had only been a few people on the lane his family's manor existed, but as they made their way back to the center of Minrathous the surge of citizens increased tenfold and Lavellan kept a tight position near him. A few people shouted and yelled over the noise here. Luckily once they had passed through the central market and took a few turns the amount of traffic diminished.

As they followed the roads that had narrowed just slightly, the shops looking a bit more worn and the solemn buildings also looking less imposing she noticed that less citizens glanced her way. They carried about their business in a strict way, looking only ahead and the few she did make eye contact with showed little to no interest in her.

Without any words she knew they had entered an area with less wealth and attention.

A few questionable characters had peered at the duo who had quality gear, but the aura of Dorian and Lavellan – not to mention their weapons – kept all of those with skill away.

But of course...not all thieves were smart.

"We're almost there," Dorian had said gleefully, turning to Lavellan only to groan loudly as he glanced over her shoulder, "Can't take you anywhere, can I?" His arm swiveled quickly to hold out his staff as Lavellan sidestepped and turned to face their enemies.

A trio of young men had approached, their worn leather kept together like patchwork and their unshaven faces drawn in gloom and anger. The leader of the group had a long, greasy ponytail and snarled at the two travelers, "Look, a magister and his whore slave come to visit us rank and file." He was the largest of the men but the shifty, smaller one flanking the leader worried Lavellan slightly more. His face reminded her of Cole and his eyes were focused. Deftly she readied her sword and shield.

"Perhaps we could take a rain check today? I'm rather tired," Lavellan said with a sigh, in no mood for bigotry and wasting energy.

"Shut it, elf!"

"Goodness me, I've never heard that before," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. The leader charged at them and she slammed her sword boldly against her shield, yelling and shocking them for a moment. Dorian had already set up a flaming mine on either side of her for the enemies and she crashed swords with the leader who was even larger closer up. Perhaps twice her size, she noted, before slamming her shield into his chest and knocking him back. His sword came up to strike, but it was too late for she had slashed his neck. She kept her eye on the shifty one who had come at her with dual knives but now rushed the third member, an archer.

The archer had been shooting at Dorian and he was frustrated, waiting for his magic to recharge.

Just as she knocked the archer down to the ground and he had sobbed for mercy she relented. While he had been sincere, in that moment the shifty thug she had noted appeared instantly at her side and thrust one his blades into the flesh of her thigh. Somehow it penetrated her armor and cut into her flesh like butter. She cried out sharply in pain.

"Lavellan!" Dorian shouted, summoning a fireball.

Just as he was about finish the summon and Lavellan had firmly turned her shield to defend herself, a dark figure leapt from the alleyway and brought one of the largest swords she'd ever seen down on the thief with a grunt.

Keeping her shield up in defense and joining Dorian who had his staff ready she watched the stranger stand up. He was frowning and kicked at the corpse to insure it was dead before pulling the sword from it. This elf was tall, his skin a darkened caramel as hers, but with white snow hair and the strangest tattoos. Unlike vallaslin, these covered most of his body but his entire face and glowed a light blue just as his sword had.

"And you are?" she asked when he turned to face them. His armor was all black and dark gray, intricate and devoid of color but for a bright red token on his wrist that looked worn as well as the belt around his waist of brilliant crimson.

"Depends on who's asking," he said, his voice gravelly and gruff. She lowered her shield for the moment, her eyes surprised to see like Solas that he walked barefoot despite wearing layers of armor like herself.

"You wouldn't happen to be Varric's friend, would you?" she said, sheathing her sword, watching as the man sheathed his to the scabbard on his back.

"You could say that, I take it you're...Leone?" he said, crossing his arms and his hazel eyes shifted and darkened as they landed on Dorian. "...and a magister?"

"Dorian Pavus," Dorian said amicably, leaning against his staff and eyeing the elf – although in an entirely different way.

"I see. Well, I was to understand it would be a mission led by myself and Leone – are there to be more?" the testy elf asked. "I don't like surprises."

"No, this is my friend. He came to escort me. Shall we talk business then?"

"Certainly, I'll be waiting inside," the man said and turned to enter a door just a few shops down, not glancing another look their way.

"...well, at least he's nice to look at it," Dorian said with a smirk. His face kept the smile but his eyes darkened a bit as he turned to her, "I suppose I shall leave you to it. Do come and visit once in awhile?"

"I will," Lavellan promised, gripping Dorian's hand before she headed into the shop the broody elf had sauntered into. It was clumped in among many others and was rather nondescript with worn steps and scratched paint on its walls. A few scraggly flowers pushed through the dirt of abandoned pots on the window sills. Pushing against the wooden door it groaned slightly and within the main entrance the elf she had encountered was leaning against a wall.

It was dark and dusty but she could see he had already begun work on cleaning the destitute shop. A mound of dirty cloth lay under one of the windows, a bucket of water with a damp cloth lay near and she realized the main windows had been cleaned but some of the others were still covered in filth. Shelves and tables were emptied of all but dirt and dust. He was posed beside another door.

"What is your name?" Leone asked as she decided to stand near one of the clean windows where she could see out on the street past the struggling flowers.

"I am Fenris," he said gruffly, "Will your friend be joining us?"

"No, I sent him home," she said and she smirked slightly, remembering her initial conversation with the Champion of Kirkwall. "Are you the Fenris the Champion mentioned?"

"Yes, I am," he said and she noted a subtle change in his demeanor as he stepped forward, missing the glimmer of a smile on his lips. "Unfortunately, I did request that she stay back in Kirkwall for now. What else have you heard of me? Hawke informed me of your various skills already."

"Not much, she only spoke of your relationship and Varric offered little else," Lavellan confessed.

"That is good," he considered, "I'm a warrior, much like you I admit, although I use larger swords it would appear. Then with my lyrium tattoos I am able to phase into objects as if I were invisible but then return to form causing great damage. An...experiment from my former master, a magister," Fenris explained, holding out his hand and showing her his tattoos. "I am not the best spy, but I do have connections to find us some to support our cause."

"I confess, I am not much of a spy either but I have at least another connection we can join with. I appreciate you taking a risk joining me here, Fenris," Lavellan said and then inquired, "What does Fenris mean?"

He grimaced a bit and turned away, "My former master chose it, for meaning 'little wolf'."

Lavellan frowned a bit, his name reminded her of Fen'Harel and...well...that wasn't important now. However, she did ask him another question, "You were a slave?"

"Yes, perhaps a tale for another time when I'm drunk, eh? I only fully cleaned my room, so yours is still filthy. The office is cleared out but the main entrance here is still in need of cleaning before we 'set up' shop. As the Inquisitor I've heard tales of your grand fortress so it may be hard to get used to these small quarters," Fenris said, "I'll lead you to your room."

"If I recall, being the Champion's lover – wouldn't you stay at her estate every so often?" Lavellan asked as she followed and saw the warrior's back tense. It reminded her of when the others would tease Solas so she chuckled. Just past the main entrance was the office area, an empty fireplace and a desk nestled within set the place but it could use more furniture. The wood was worn and scratched much like everything else but the dust and filth was cleared from here. Fenris must have cleared it well before her arrival and a small hallway began just beyond the fireplace.

"I already took the room on the left so you can have the right," he explained, opening the door in the dim hallway. At the end a table and window allowed some light in but the sun faced the shop entrance so this window barely brought in any light during the day. Within her room she braced herself. Luckily, it wasn't terrible.

A small desk and bed were against the wall, a small chest near the door would be her means to hold her personal items. Everything was layered in dust and the window within was still encrusted with dust and debris.

"I'll bring you a bucket and washcloth. I took the initiative and hired a free elf to handle the washing of our linens. Clean sheets and such will be delivered this afternoon, she will come by weekly. We can hire others, but I wanted to limit that until you were here so we could discuss our plans."

"Good thinking," Lavellan noted, propping the bedroom door open with her traveling satchel and as she set it down she remembered the necklace. Later she would think what to do with it, for now she had to refresh this abode she'd be residing in. "Where are we keeping the linens and cleaning supplies?"

"There's a small room beside yours, barely bigger than a closet with some boxes and shelves," he noted, showing her the door simply by leaning back from her as she walked back into the hallway. "Once I get you the water, I'm going to resume cleaning up the front. I figure first step to preparing this operation is to open up shop. You can find me there once you finish." Soon both were toiling in their respective assigned roles, her washing and wiping grime from the walls and windows covered in aged dirt. Fenris had managed to wipe most of the dust already and was now deep cleaning before washing the wooden floors. Morning turned into afternoon before either knew it and the silence was odd to Lavellan, being surrounded by so many people day in and out...the quiet was fresh to her.

By the time she was satisfied the washing woman had dropped off the linens and Fenris had called out to her to come to the entrance. He was in the middle of finishing off the floor so Lavellan traversed the wet entrance way to gather the linens and blankets, dropping coins into the woman's hands.

"Good day," the woman said with the barest of smiles and dropped the money into her purse.

"Good day to you as well," Lavellan said, tossing the bag of linens over her shoulder and then she carried the bag past the shop entrance to the office room. She pulled out the folded sheets and coverlets. Sighing she realized she was spoiled, already she thought of her massive bed back at Skyhold. _Oh well,_ she thought and set them out on the desk and went to see if Fenris needed help.

"I'm almost done," he said dumping out the gray, slimy water outside the door into the street. "However, I'd rather eat before we discuss anything. Care to stop by the nearest pub?"

"Yes, that sounds great. Do you have the key?"

"It's in my pouch, I've got your spare as well," with his left handing reaching into a pouch, the red crest looked familiar to Lavellan as he pulled a blunt, bland key and tossed it to her. She caught it and placed it within a pouch on her own belt. "We should be good to go, the floors will dry while we're eating."

The two confident elves garnered a few stares on the streets, many of the passerby uncertain of what to make of them but said nothing. Even free elves usually had a relation or experience with slavery so meekness had become almost a part of their culture. Then again, with Fenris's preternatural disposition for frowning and the bold gaze of Lavellan it was easy to see why no one had spoken up about the strangeness of them in these quiet streets...or it could have been their brilliant armor and massive swords.

After exiting the alley they found their way to a small tavern and ordered. Eyes continued to watch them but for now they tried to keep quiet. Lavellan inquired of the Champion to Fenris who easily provided details on his loved one. Fenris asked few questions and ate slowly while sipping some wine. She then asked about his armor and the style of it to which he became more expressive and excited.

Purple streaks arched through the sky already on their way back to the empty shop.

The floor had dried and Fenris locked the door and shuttered the windows at the front, grabbing the empty bucket and dirty cleaning cloths. Lavellan walked into their mutual office, alighting a fire within the fireplace and settling into one of the two large, plush chairs. Seconds later after he had set everything in the storage room he sat in the other one, lounging back with his ankles crossing and a bottle of wine sitting on the floor beside his chair within grasp. She hadn't even noticed it there.

"Shall we begin?" she asked allowing her arms to go slack on either side upon the armrests.

"In regards to the shop, I think we might want to reconsider the 'shop' aspect."

"I agree, we can sell a few things, but we might do well to also serve as bodyguards for hire," Lavellan offered.

"Then we are on the same page – particularly as we are both warriors," Fenris smiled sharply. "Next would be how to fit in. Being elves makes us a target anyway but we will need to hide the value of our equipment...and fix our appearance."

"...perhaps I can acquire some cheaper armor for when we aren't on missions," Lavellan offered. "I'm considering doing something to hide my appearance, even without my vallaslin – my appearance could compromise us."

"I agree, while I stand out I am not well known but your eyes...I see very few with such a color. Hawke had mentioned them, but we may need a spell or something to hide them at least. Perhaps your friend can assist while we consider spies and mages for hire."

"Good idea, I wonder…," she thought, looking over Fenris and he raised a brow, "Perhaps we should try to pass ourselves off as siblings?" He bristled at first and she thought she may have offended him in some way. After he took a swig from his wine bottle he seemed to tilt his head back and consider what she had said more.

"...that may...work. I am curious, why are your vallaslin gone? I thought you were Dalish?" he asked, leaning forward and this time Lavellan looked away towards the fire.

"That is a long tale for another night I am drunk as well. Suffice it to say I was offered something by Fen'Harel and this was a parting gift," she said with a sad smile.

"Ah – the ridiculous apostate who betrayed the Inquisition and names himself after the elven trickster God?" he asked, "Or so Hawke and Varric have told me."

Lavellan stiffened instantly, "Excuse me? What else have they told you about him?" Despite the pain she bristled at his words.

"What else….? That he was quite insufferable at times. Went by Solas initially I was told. One of your closest companions that you took on nearly all of your travels."

"All that is an understatement. That apostate you speak of was much more to me," she said, a hum of irritation and threat intertwined in her tone. He paused suddenly and he scratched his chin.

"I see – this may complicate our mission," Fenris growled.

"It was never going to be simple either way. If anything comes up with Fen'Harel I will deal with it, it's not your concern."

"I hope so," he said, eyeing her warily.

"What are we to call this place?" she asked, changing the topic. "The 'Wolf's Den' perhaps?" she suggested and he choked on a swig.

"You intend to name it after your lover?" he asked as she smiled at his expression.

"I feel like I'm surrounded by wolves – Fen'Harel, Fenris….just keep it coming," she remarked, "Besides it may confuse those who are supportive and against the rise of Fen'Harel."

"Whatever, I'm not concerned with the name of this business. My concern is how we intend to make this work? I know we are to serve the community as shop owners, hire a few trusted agents and then provide a route for slaves to be...escorted out of Tevinter to a safe destination," he said, "From what I've understood in our correspondence with Varric, you have secure passage from the border to a Ferelden safe haven. We will start small and begin funneling more slaves from here while eliminating...a few of the masters and sellers." A smile appeared on his lips with sharp teeth glinting in the firelight just as a light glow pulses from his tattoos.

"Precisely, we'll begin with scouting and establishing the business. After we have some trusted agents you and I can carry out the missions with at least two supporters coming with. I intend to research and locate some particular artifacts that may help us against Fen'Harel if he does interfere with our plans," Lavellan added. "I do wish to limit the amount of agents we hire and even those will have limited information. Many of my agents within the Inquisition were compromised and it was a harsh lesson for me to learn. At this time I still have some strong connections but I do want to limit the use of them for dire situations."

"Understood. An old friend will be pulling into port within the week to provide some intelligence and service for a time. She can assist in providing at least one or two good agents as well as some leads into the artifacts you are looking into," Fenris said and set the wine bottle down with finality. "Your Magister friend may also be of assistance."

"Yes, if need be."

"Well, is there anything else we need to discuss?"

"I think that should suffice for now. We can speak more tomorrow if I think of more."

"Good, I'm going to turn in. Don't forget to hide your high quality armor away."

"Good evening," Lavellan said and watched as the man stood up and carried his bottle with him to his room after collecting some linens, his shoulders sagging only a tad as he closed the door behind him. He must have lit a candle within the room because as she allowed the fireplace to die down a gentle glow came from under his door. She collected her own linens and went into her room, not bothering to light a candle as she packed things into the small chest near her door.

Packing it all in she quickly changed into a nightshirt and pulled the last item from her satchel before placing it within the chest as well just atop her armor. Her fingers stroked the bone in her hand and the leather straps twined about it. It was smooth and sharp just as his own cheekbones and jawline had been. For a moment she thought about throwing it away or stuffing it at the bottom of her storage chest.

Instead, she held the necklace out and placed it on herself, feeling the light weight of it settling between her breasts like a talisman. After some time it began to warm and she fell asleep with it digging lightly into her skin.

P.S. Excuse the long break – I haven't read any reviews yet and I intended to have this chapter out sooner. I've got a plan for all the writing but holidays and life have been hectic lately. I do have more chapters already written. So I'll upload at least one more or two by tomorrow. I appreciate your time and patience. Everyone have a beautiful night/evening. 3


	5. Chapter 4: Stocking Up

Chapter 4: Stocking Up

Their first shipment of stock came a week later, courtesy of Fenris's friend.

Leone had been organizing a few sparse documents on the right side of the desk, her portion when she heard Fenris open the door and offer a rather kind greeting – at least for someone like him. Curious, she had stood and came to the shop entrance and saw a buxom brunette standing there eyeing the tall elf quite scandalously. The former inquisitor was certain Hawke wouldn't approve but then again Fenris already looked like he was rolling his eyes so she held back a laugh. Then those hazel eyes snapped to her face and Leone felt her face flush as the woman pushed past the elf, a devilish smirk crossing her features.

"Why, who is this breathtaking darling?" the woman asked, holding out a hand to Leone.

Since Fenris only sighed, Leone informed her, "I'm Leone, his business partner."

"That is wonderful, I am Isabela," she said, her thumb caressing Leone's hand just slightly and Leone pulled back from the handshake a moment early.

"Is this your friend, Fenris?" Leone asked, crossing her arms across her chest and trying to ignore her flushed face.

"I suppose so. Did you forget you offered to bring a trusted agent along with...these trinkets?" Fenris groaned, pushing some packages across the floor with his foot and out of the way of the door. Isabela turned to face him, fanning her wave of hair out as she walked over to him and placed her hand on her hip.

"Of course not...however, do remember our deal?" she breathed huskily, wagging her finger at him.

"What deal?" Leone asked, brow quirking up at the comment.

"We provide Isabela with a percentage of profits of course along with aid if need be when she visits this part of the Imperium," Fenris explained, shrugging his shoulders, "She has invaluable information and is talented at procuring more." The last part he said with a suggestive smirk as he moved to go sit on a stool he'd dusted off the day before. It was nestled beneath the window looking out on the street and he stared out. "Would that short human be the agent you're providing us with?" he asked as Isabela drew near Leone again.

"Yes, that is Barnaby. He's actually much older than he seems, but his height and gentle features make him look years younger. I'd say he's about twenty-three or so, he never reveals his real age for fun. I will say, despite his face...he's quite an experienced lad in the ways of entertaining both genders," she said her broad lips smiling and watching Leone. "If you're curious my dear. I know our pal Fenris here has a ball and chain – quite a delectable one -" to which Fenris suddenly stiffened and glared at the buxom woman who waved him off, "But if you're ever curious I'm sure Barnaby wouldn't mind."

"I appreciate the offer, Isabela. At the moment I'm not interested in that. Is he coming in?" Leone asked, walking to stand beside Fenris and peer out the window.

"Barnaby! I'm done with these prudes, go on and come in," Isabela laughed, pushing the door open. A man of maybe five feet and three inches came in. He was lanky and rather elegant in features. Even Leone was a bit surprised how beautiful his features were and his straw blonde hair billowed back from a widow's peak. His face was clean shaven so the sharp lines were strong and showed off his large, wide mouth. For a moment the sharp angles and lips reminded her of Solas, but this man had bold, brown eyes which seemed to be measuring her up.

"Hello, are you the boss or is it the brooding elf over there?" came a voice that was a bit deeper than Leone expected from the glowing figure before her. A grunt came from the window but little else as Isabela went to chat a bit more quietly with Fenris.

"I'll be handling most of this mission and leading some of the excursions, pleasure to meet you," Leone said, reaching out a hand. Barnaby took it and shook it swiftly, she saw his eyes continuing to measure her as if he could read her character through a handshake.

"Pleasure is mine, Inquisitor," he said with a wink and laughed at her frown. "No worries, secret is safe with me, but I'd suggest a glamour from a magister or shop around here. You might have disbanded, but your face is relatively well known among those who are considered important in the world. Especially the eyes," he reminded her, tapping his finger against his own, "It is said they are like demon's eyes."

"Will you be staying with us?" she asked as Fenris and Isabela joined them again.

"Nah, my loyal mistress has set me up a safe room and board. Just in case things get a bit dodgy, eh?" he said and moved back as Isabela stood beside him.

"Yes, please do take care of Barnaby. He is one of my strongest assets so this is a great favor I'm giving you, as well as a personal favorite," she said, her golden eyes admiring the man with affection. "He can pick nearly every lock and garner more information than a whore house. His aim with a bow is also notable….among other things."

"Well, I do believe my time has come to go and check on some other work I have in the area. Do send me updates, I'll return in about a month or two to check in on progress," Isabela informed them. "If there's an emergency Barnaby knows how to contact me directly – you remember how?"

"Of course, mistress. Do take care on the travels," he said, reaching out and planting a kiss on her hand. She chuckled and batted her eyelashes.

"Farewell for now," she said and with that Isabela walked out into the blazing sunlight and down the clustered alleyway to conduct her own personal business. A few shadows took note of her presence but thought little of it. Isabela's mouth curled into a dark grin as she sashayed down into the shadows, daring the hiding figures to follow the notorious pirate.

Barnaby turned back to face his new bosses, "Well, I'm going to go rest up if you two don't have anything else for me today. Shall we begin tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me, same time we'll meet here and go into the meeting room," Leone agreed. "Although, how do we contact you?"

"Ah, yes. I've brought a friend with me. One moment – can either of you whistle?" he asked.

"I can."

"As can I," Fenris proffered, folding his arms over his chest as he watched the pirate.

"Good, I was worried for a minute – I'll teach you, but basically -" and the pirate released a high whistle that shortened to two altering bursts with one final, long high note. Seconds later a shadow crossed the window and wing flaps could be heard at the door. Barnaby beamed proudly as he opened the door and there on the doorstep waiting was a rather large crow.

It made eye contact with Leone and cawed loudly. Then its gaze turned to Barnaby as it hopped towards him. In a rather humorous matter it tossed its head briefly in Fenris's direction with a dismissive and short caw.

"Yeah, he's a bit of a rain cloud. Allow me to introduce Rook, my companion. He'll recognize that call within miles and come instantly. Although he cannot speak the Common tongue, he is able to pass simple messages," Barnaby explained.

"Brilliant! That is amazing," Leone said and she crouched down towards the bird. "His feathers are so shiny, you must take great care of him," she crooned and watched the bird puff a bit of extra air into its chest, causing the feathers to glisten more in the filtered sunlight.

"He thinks you're good looking as well for a human," Barnaby said with a chuckle, his voice honeyed. "We'll be off then. Come, Rook," Barnaby said and the crow flew up to rest on his shoulder until they left the building. Once they had cleared the doorway the crow launched off his perch and into the sky until only a black blot was visible. "Cheeky fellow," Barnaby whispered in fondness, waving back to the two elves.

"I'll need to contact Dorian as soon as possible...before anyone recognizes me," Leone remarked. "Can you begin setting up the shop? I'll steal away to the Pavus manor and see if Dorian is available."

"Are you sure it would be wise to go alone? Even with your Magister friend the other day you were attacked in the alleyway," Fenris stated simply. "We can set up shop later, I will accompany you to the manor for security. I would wear a mask or hood to cover some of your face at the least."

"You have a good point, I'll find a hood to wear," Leone agreed, nodding her head.

Fenris had to bite his lip not to glower at her friend's home. There had been no issues coming to the manor despite the long route and luckily without notice Dorian was home to assist them. He had not been shocked by her request and was torn between excitement as well as disappointment since he admired her features. About five minutes into the discussion, Fenris had already taken to napping lightly in a lounge chaise in Dorian's room.

"I wonder what those tattoos are for?" Dorian had wondered aloud in the middle of performing the glamour when a grunt came from the resting body.

"None of your business, mage," Fenris had said with one eye snapping open and closing just as quickly. Dorian's face flushed slightly and he stuck his tongue out at him before returning to the woman sitting before him.

"You are done, my dear," Dorian said and stood back, holding his chin with his forefinger and thumb as he assessed his work. "Still a vision in my eyes, dear," he said with a pleased chuckle and turned her to his dressing table mirror.

"You made us look alike," she said, a bit stunned by the change in her features and Fenris was suddenly up and glowering. He seemed incredibly upset and Leone wasn't entirely sure why. Before she could ask he stomped out the door and they could both hear him make his way to the foyer with a servant bustling behind. The front door slammed suddenly and Leone looked back at Dorian. "Sorry – he's not the most pleasant but he's never been incredibly rude like that before," she said and stood up. "I'm apologize for the way he's acting."

"Oh dear, probably some deep unresolved issues – I understand. However I figure this way - with you having the same hazel green eyes and white moonlight hair you both could easily pass as siblings. I'll come visit in a few weeks, but if you need me sooner let me know. I've been quietly doing some research and I know a few….substantial Magisters who are both paranoid and experts of Elvhen magic...artifacts and the like. I've been moving closer to them and mentioning some certain guards I'm familiar with.

With times as they've been and even the Inquisition being disbanded, some are growing nervous. Especially with...you know who causing an uproar and making the Magisters afraid of uprisings from the elves. They are hearing rumors so many of them feel that the Imperium will be next," Dorian revealed, and he quickly grasped at a stack of documents resting on his dressing table. He swiftly twisted the documents into a tight roll before stuffing them in her hand. "I've memorized their names and information. I'll keep looking into them, but you two should take this as well."

"I appreciate everything Dorian," Leone said, hugging her friend and not caring that the documents were crushed between his hand and her chest.

"Yes, yes, yes. I am undeniably the best of your companions, am I not? Beautiful and talented. Now go, before your new emotionally unstable elf friend growls at my neighbors," he said with a lopsided grin, pushing her gently out his room. He watched her downstairs, chuckling to himself as she stood leaning towards the tall elf that she was glowering at, her rage radiating off so that passerby stopped to watch. Perhaps he should have told her not to growl, Dorian thought to himself, serves the stick right.

That list he had given her, he had memorized it a day before as he had planned to visit her. There had already been rumors about his own return, he hoped if he made his presence known within Tevinter high society again that the intrigue of that would overshadow the fact he had been traveling with a mysterious, free elf warrior.

One of the names on the list, an elf herself, was the Magister Deidre. He had heard much about her, a slave who had pleased her master and shown her own magical talent. Her ambitions and skills were only outmatched by her charm and other talents, for it was rare for an elf of any status to climb as high as she had. Recently at a socialite party held by an old associate Dorian make her acquaintance. She had been nearby and he had remarked how he had encountered an elf with strange tattoos to which the Magister eagerly brought herself into the discussion.

She was tall, a bit taller than Leone, long flowing blonde hair tied back and azure eyes had glowed animatedly as she spoke. A few of the eyes in the room looked at her with more than a little interest. Her slanted ears were pierced a few times, the sparkling jewels catching the light of the candles. Within a few moments she excitedly revealed knowledge she had about lyrium tattoos and the procedure. All she couldn't reveal was the results as few survived the procedure, or at least remembered undergoing it, so the knowledge and written tomes on the procedure were few and far between. Besides, given the nature of it there could be a variety of side effects.

Something about the elf Magister had made him nervous, Dorian had to admit, although he couldn't put a finger on it. There had been a peculiar gleam in her eye when he spoke and made eye contact with her that made him squirm. While he admired ambition the interest she showed in him during the conversation seemed excessive.

Then again, he had never doubted Solas and look where they all were now. Who was he to judge?


	6. Chapter 5: Filching Foci

P.S. This is the most recent chapter I've completed so it will probably be at least a week before I upload anymore updates. Thanks for reading and hope the grammar isn't too awful 3

Chapter 5: Filching Foci

A few months had passed and Leone was settling into her chair when Fenris came sauntering into the meeting room. Seconds later a slight shadow following behind – Barnaby with his ever present crow. She enjoyed seeing the bird as if he was the pet she had always wanted. Night had fallen and a fire blazed viciously behind her, giving the room an orange glow.

"So, we've got our first true bite. I admit I've been growing bored with these...recent attempts," Barnaby said with a snicker. He sat across from Leone who sat behind the large desk while Fenris took the other chair just opposite her. Heat emanated from the collapsing firewood that crackled under the persistent flames.

"I agree this has been quite tedious but finally our search has borne fruit. Although it will most certainly be dangerous. We'll be breaking into the laboratory of one of the highest ranking Magisters that we've made contact with. Personally, I do not know much of him other than that he traveled often and has had a few elven lovers. His personal fetish led him to begin looking more into their history as well as the magic they wielded long ago. Of late he's been excessively paranoid our source notified us. In the past few years he's also been less sociable and possessed by his research. Initially, Dorian suggested he would be a beneficial patron for our services. After some more research it has come to my attention that this man - Magister Renault may be hiding an Elvhen foci," Leone stated as she firmed down the worn map beneath her calloused hands.

"Ah yes...Elvhen foci…," Barnaby sighed, glancing at his crow who was perched on the fireplace and appeared to be sleeping lightly. His eyes came back down to meet Leone's again, "Exactly what is this 'foci' again?"

"Elvhen foci are some powerful elven artifacts that are connected to ancient beings who the elves consider Gods. They are able to amplify the physical and magical capabilities of the wielder – although there are also potential side effects that can warp the wielder or endanger them," Leone attempted to explain – although…

"What kind of dangerous side effects?" Fenris bluntly asked, Leone's face paled just a bit before she answered honestly.

"I'm not entirely certain. The last person to wield one was Corypheus, but he went to great sacrifices so...to be honest I'd rather we simply gather them for safe keeping than with the intention to use them," Leone revealed, watching Fenris's usual scowl deepen slightly and Barnaby just sat quietly.

"What makes you feel they are safer with you?" Fenris boldly questioned her, his arms crossing just before he tilted his head back to stare at her.

"Fen'Harel is seeking a replacement for his destroyed orb. If it is within the hands of a Tevinter Magister he will simply take it. I believe placing myself as the keeper of the foci will...complicate his goal," Leone stated, leaning forward on her arms.

Fenris's scowl deepened, "I am not pleased with this idea. However, I agreed to support this mission as long as we are able to free the slaves. Hawke will not be pleased at all I must warn you." Leone nodded and Barnaby spoke up.

"I do not understand. How does you being keeper matter?"

"Fen'Harel has a deep attachment to our leader here," Fenris supplied as Leone worked how to explain it as concisely as possible. She nodded as the procurer's eyes widened a tad. "Her idea is that if her life is placed as an obstacle to gaining the foci it is possible then, that this supposed elven God may reconsider. Hopefully." Silence settled over the room for a moment. The short man waiting to see if either elves offered more information or explanation, but even the woman he had come to respect was solemnly quiet. It filled him with a slight sense of unease before she opened her mouth again.

"Now that we've cleared up that – the plan is to meet Dorian at a party he is attending this evening. He will speak with some familiar faces and then leave the party through the servant's quarters to come find us in a nearby alley. From there we shall sneak to Magister Renault's and scale the gates, break into the estate and locate the artifact. Any questions?" Leone inquired of her silent companions.

"I think that is enough for us to do the job – do we happen to know the location of this artifact?" Barnaby did request as Fenris stood to go finish preparations for the misson.

"Not precisely, but the servants have marked a room that Renault refuses to allow anyone into. While I doubt it is located exactly in that single room, I believe there is probably a path from the locked room to where he keeps the artifact sealed," Leone said as she herself stood to conclude the conversation.

"Sounds good to me. Have you heard back about the arrival of the first shipment?" Fenris asked as he reached the hallway leading to their private rooms, his hand resting against the entryway.

"Yes, I read a letter from Blackwall this evening, the first shipment is settling in well and while there has been some...culture shock...the workers are helping them slowly. We have hired some city elves to come in and assist in the transition so it's less of a trauma to the shipment. There have been some issues as we expected, but Blackwall has assured me everything is under control," Leone informed Fenris.

"Good, I'll be ready when you need me," Fenris stated as he turned to his room down the hall.

"As will I," Barnaby quipped, clicking his tongue so his crow followed him out the meeting room.

Just a few hours later with both darkness and a light fog setting in the trio made their way to the wealthy, regal side of Minrathous towards the Magister Renault's neighborhood. Their armor and weapons were adjusted to hide safely beneath bulky layers and robes. It made Leone's and Fenris's weapons harder to access but stealth was necessary for this part – two elves and a short foreigner would stick out in this rich area. Hiding in an alleyway after avoiding a few guards patrolling the area they saw a stylish man in the distance. He was not hidden in the darkness, just on the edge of the alley and waving to a guard who passed by. A tiny light from a small pipe he was smoking illuminated his chocolate eyes and bronze skin. His curled mustache curved with his smile, creating the illusion of ease.

"Good evening," Leone said as she approached Dorian.

"Evening, darling. And darling's associates," Dorian said extending a hand, Fenris just raised a brow in refusal and Barnaby gave a quick shake – his crow absent at the moment to scout the area. "Well, I've been watching the guard's routes the past week. We would do best to wait a bit longer, then they elongate the time between walks."

"How will we be getting in?" Leone asked as Dorian dragged on the pipe.

"There is a bit of magic I've studied around his gate – I can warp it for entry then return it to form so the break isn't noticed. There are some guards at the main entrance but they are mainly trained for brute strength. The issue with that path is within the main hall are some trained guards, half of whom are mages in training to become Magisters. So, we would do best to take a different route – there is a servants quarter were we will be able to bribe at least one of the servants. Particularly with Leone's assistance. A little one has heard of Andraste's Herald and has expressed a great desire to meet her. She will allow us in, but then we will have to take care once inside – I'd suggest Barnaby and I scout to locate the laboratory. Magister Renault is currently out of town, visiting an ailing lover I've heard," Dorian explained.

"I see, I'm a bit concerned – is this servant planning on leaving with us?" Leone asked, realizing she had not planned to rescue anyone at this break in.

"Is that even a question?" Fenris asked, coming forward suddenly.

"I'm just concerned, we've taken slaves from minor houses. Ones that no one will notice. Taking a high ranking Magister's might attract more attention than we are prepared to handle at our current size," Leone said, although it hurt for her to say.

"Well – if you want my aid I think you know what to do," Fenris growled.

"Come off it, Fenris. Of course, I wouldn't want to leave one behind but I don't want this to become a liberation mission that endangers what little we've managed to build. It's not good to wing everything in the hopes it works," Leone said tersely, her voice coming out harsh. "We cannot save anyone if we are imprisoned."

He grunted in annoyance but settled down.

"Well, now that your discussion is over – I do believe the time has come," Dorian spoke up, gesturing to the trio. They followed behind him, their steps silent on the cobblestone as they came up to a large, imposing iron gate with sharp spikes. "Now, give me a moment – I'm going to warp the protective wards," he ordered, his hands glowing purple as a palpable vibration came through the air. A sheer circle of plum appeared before them – from the bottom of the gate to the sharp spikes up top. "Be careful, I can do nothing for the spikes while I'm holding off the wards. Please move quickly."

Barnaby climbed quickly with Fenris behind, taking care his sword didn't hit anything or the edge of the ward that was opened. Both were swift and cautious, taking great care to avoid the dangerous spikes. Barnaby was silent, Fenris only making the slightest sound as the weight of him and his sword hit the ground in his leap. Next came Leone, moving as quickly as possible as she had seen Dorian's lips thin in concentration even with the other two moving fast.

As stood from her leap over the inner grounds she turned to face Dorian who while still focused, tossed his cloak and staff through the thin spacing to her, "Catch, darling. I'm next." She caught them and he very hesitantly, slowly made his way up the gate. He was beginning to pale a bit. Sweat began appearing on his brow as he breached the top. Leone saw the opening in the ward begin to wobble slightly.

"Take these," she told Fenris, tossing Dorian's equipment towards him which he just barely caught as she rose her arms in the air, "Jump, Dorian. I will catch you." Her voice was as soft as she could make it and at first Dorian shook his head in disagreement. But then the entire circle of magic keeping the ward open began to quiver violently. His right foot had just reached the peak of the gate when a final quake through the opening forced him to simply fall forward to avoid the ward closing on him and alerting the entire estate. Barnaby came up to offer support but just missed as Dorian fell heavily onto Leone. With a grunt and her feet braced, Leone caught Dorian although the wind was knocked from him as he landed on her shoulder.

She stood there for few deep breathes adjusting herself as Dorian struggled to right himself. Fenris came near to hold out his staff while Barnaby kept an eye out. The weight had slammed into her shoulder hard, but she'd deal with that later. With everyone on the ground, Dorian wiped his brow and gestured for the band to follow him quietly. Despite the size of their weapons the two swordsmen managed to move just as nimbly and stealthily as their counterparts. A few guards were visible as they crossed the manicured lawns and gardens. Light from torches lit within the estate illuminated spots on the ground.

Overhead the stars twinkled in the darkness and Leone glimpsed upward briefly before focusing as Dorian bent over to whisper a spell over the distressed wooden door before them. A spark fizzled from it and he flapped his hand in agitation that they needed to follow him. In haste Barnaby knocked into Fenris who grunted in annoyance before Leone glared at the two of them.

"Where is this little one you spoke of?" Leone questioned Dorian as they stood in the dark of the entrance way they had broke into. "I thought she was getting us in?"

"That was just a simple enchanted lock. Up ahead is a door locked with a key enchanted to be only used by those serving the family," Dorian said, summoning a small wisp of flame to light the way for him. There ahead she saw the heavier door, etched with more metal and an opening sealed off by bars. Just barely the top of a head with dark hair could be seen.

"Veras?" Dorian called out as they neared the door.

"Is the Herald there?" came a timid voice, the tone shaking slightly. It was female.

"Yes, she is. Want to see her face?"

"Yes, I would like that," she called out and Dorian waved at Leone to come forward. As she did she could see more into the room past the tiny barred window in the door. It looked like a storage area for wines and ales, in the distance just a few torches lighting the expansive room. Turning her gaze down she met the servant's eyes.

"You don't look like the Herald," said the child, her eyebrows frowning slightly and her lips turning down. Her brown eye stared up, struggling slightly as she was young but also a small branch of a child. All skin and bones was how she looked wearing the too massive gown and her other eye was sealed shut by a thick scar trailing in a curve back towards her pointed ear.

"It is magic to protect others from seeing me," Leone replied, coming closer to the door so the girl could see her better.

"They do not like me here. The master or the high servants will punish me if I let you in," she said, seeming to tense up and uncertainty clouding her face.

"We will take you with us," Leone said.

"People here lie all the time."

"How did you get that scar?" Leone asked suddenly and the little girl named Veras paused, thinking.

"I dropped one of the Magister's potions while helping another clean. It was for an important experiment and set the Magister back. I made him look bad. So he told the head servant to punish me. I was punished and now I have one eye," she said.

"I have only one arm," Leone said, "I lost it – did you hear that about the Herald?"

"No...no one told us that. We just heard the Herald might come to free us. Free us and lead us to the great Fen'Harel," Veras excitedly chattered, drawing near the door and Leone saw the glint of a key in her slight hands.

"I will show you, if you let us in. All you need to do is tell us where the Magister's lab is – then you can stay here with our strong bodyguard. He will keep you safe," she promised. Veras's eye gazed up at her. That final sentence the last push which led Veras's hand to unlock the door. She scrambled back quickly from them nervously as they entered. So young - she only came up to Leone's chest in height.

"Do you have a map?" the young elf asked and Dorian came forward.

"Here you go," he said, pulling out a map with an assortment of stains marring its parchment.

The young elf with shaking hands pointed to a spot on the map and Dorian moved his finger to that same place and pulled a dagger from his belt. He pricked his finger and pressed it there to mark the spot, whispering some words that caused it to disappear for the moment.

"Thank you so very much. This elf here – he is very grumpy, but he will keep you safe. He cares very much for people like you," Leone knelt down on a knee to speak with Veras. The young girl's eyes had widened in shock at the sight of the glowing man behind Leone. Veras was overwhelmed by the sight of the quartet, recognizing Dorian briefly, and then taking in the metallic contraption Leone wore to replace her arm.

"I want you to stay here with her, Fenris. Guard the exit for us and we shall return as swift as we can," Leone ordered, adjusting the straps of her sword's sheath for easy release.

"You intend to only have the three of you? Where has your pet gone to?" Fenris inquired, leaning against a doorway as Dorian made his way to the only other door in the wine cellar.

"Rook," Barnaby emphasized, "Is scouting overhead to make sure we're safe when we leave as well as track us in proximity to any...dangerous possibilities." He had two daggers in his hands already, tilted back so the blades laid flat against his forearm.

"Understood. Hurry lest I have to find your corpses," Fenris drawled, looking down at the servant girl who looked tempted to touch his vibrant tattoos. "I suggest you don't," he noted as she reached out a tentative finger.

"Ready?" Dorian asked and Leone nodded, allowing Barnaby to walk past her. Leone faced back to the little girl for a quick smile before following the two men and closing the door behind her softly. Their light armor and leather boots ensured silence as they entered a larger storage area with cobblestones. No one was in the dark area and Dorian summoned a fireball to light the candles near a stairwell leading to the main floor of the mansion. He snuffed the candles as he slowly opened the door, Barnaby taking the lead to scout ahead and shroud himself in darkness.

As they gathered again at the end of a hall covered in shadows and their feet resting against a grand carpet flowing down the entire hall Barnaby whispered to Dorian. The poised mage reached under his cloak and presented to the thief a worn map. Barnaby sheathed one of his daggers, keeping the other at the ready as he followed the guide in his hand.

Luckily enough they had not yet encountered a guard but as they came upon a grand foyer Barnaby called them to a halt and the three had to shuffle against a wall avoiding the paintings behind them. This main area was more like a room connecting to six other halls with two on a higher floor going opposite directions. Their next route was on the second floor using the ornate twin staircase made from twisted metal spiraling up. Here there were three guards rotating their positions.

Barnaby summoned Leone to his side as they crouched in the shadow and looked.

One stood still in front of twin double doors made of a burgundy oak on the first floor beneath the fine staircase. A giant spear was at the guard's side and its armor glinted oddly in the light. This guard was likely magically imbued with the light aura of glimmering red flickering over its plates.

The other two seemed to be regular warriors, their swords sheathed and pacing back and forth checking their routes. One was heading down the hall opposite their current location and thank the gods for that as he appeared to keep going, the light from his oil lamp dimming as he continued. Finally, the last guard was in the hall above the foyer heading down the hall facing them.

"Do you think that main guard can see us?" Leone asked, trying to see with her strong vision where the eye slits were in the helmet.

"The lights are low in the foyer – except if that guard is an elf such as yourself – I think we could slip by if we are quiet enough and stick low to the ground. Keep close to the vases and hide behind the columns and couch."

"Good, hear that Dorian?"

"Yes."

"Well, Barnaby that other guard has gone away so good for us – for now. What of the one upstairs?" Leone inquired, keeping her eyes on the foyer as Barnaby checked the map. His slender finger held the map close to his face in the shadows.

"That hall is not long so we'll need to move fast as we head up the stairwell. Currently his location is best for entering the chamber we need – however – we'll have to be careful leaving as the hall there is not as wide as these on the first floor."

"Understood," Leone said and she counted, "3…...2…..1….go..."

She led them in the black shadows out of their safe corner and onto the shimmering stone floor, zipping behind a column near the front. The furthest guard's light was completely gone from view as she bent her lanky form painfully low to slip behind a fat, squat vase filled with flowers and then to a fashionably stiff couch. Holding her breath she then flitted behind a short column at the foot of the stairwell, looking back to see Dorian had tucked his cloak in his belt and Barnaby took up the rear.

All the silence made her heart beat seem thunderous as she rushed to the wall by the stairs and she worked hard to make her steps as light as a feather up the staircase. Their positions were incredibly vulnerable here and her heart quickened pace as she made her way to the top. She only had seconds to look to the left before rushing to the right.

The guard upstairs was still facing the other direction but she still had the others behind her. Leone plastered herself against a recess of a doorway, waiting as Dorian came running softly and pressed near her. Barnaby nearly threw himself at their feet as he came upon the doorway.

"Goodness, when the guard turned I thought he heard me," he whispered and crouching low Barnaby laid flat on his belly peering out past the recess. "He's just turned down the other way to the connecting hall. Let's hurry."

Leone took rear guard again as Barnaby ran with Dorian on his flank further down the hall. A faint light appeared at the end and their hearts rushed to their throats as it grew brighter and brighter. Someone was coming down this way. Barnaby's pace gained speed and it became difficult to keep their feet silent as they rushed.

The thief raised his hand up and a moment later his heels dug into the ground as he turned while halting, his hands rushing to stash the map in his shirt and sheath the other dagger. He knelt before a doorway hands flying from pocket to the locked door. Leone pushed against Dorian, hiding him behind her and pressed against the slight recess as Barnaby hustled. Now she could even hear the steps of the guard or servant – whomever – that was making their way down the hall.

With a rush of heavy sigh the door loosened and Barnaby lightly tested it, careful for creaking as it opened just a few inches. The hinges were smooth and the room within black with night. He slipped in, grabbing Dorian behind him and just before Leone flitted through she saw the armored hand of a guard. Her vision was flooded with darkness momentarily as Barnaby softly closed the door behind them.

They were silent for moments, listening to the footfalls past the doorway come and go.

As their breathing became even and Dorian opened his mouth, "Well, I hope this stress doesn't give me gray hair." Leone smiled and Barnaby sighed.

"It's best we don't light anything in here, I can see the moon and if the map is correct – this is a library. Leone, can you see fine?" Barnaby asked, stretching as he stood.

"Yes. What am I looking for Dorian?" she asked, taking the time to stretch herself as well.

"I understand there is a door in the furthest corner of the library, behind the third row of bookcases," Dorian said, "But I believe it'll be a bit more complicated. Magister Renault wouldn't make this too easy. He is well respected among those in Tevinter." In a few strides they had reached the back wall of the library, illuminated with a few streams of moonlight which showed them a timid and small door. As they approached it Dorian held out his arm.

"Ah, ah. Wait," he warned and he grabbed his staff whispering some more. A light emanated in a gentle pulsing at the top of his staff. It glowed strongly and suddenly the end of the bookcase behind them glimmered in a same purple color. The ward appearing on the bookcase pulsed strongly then suddenly shattered, dissipating in shards. "There, it was an illusion. There is a short staircase hidden within the case."

Barnaby's mouth opened in surprise and he began his descent down the hidden stairwell. This bookcase was hollow, the entrance had been hidden to look like the flat end just like the other bookcases. It was dark and no light filtered down into this room, Dorian summoned another fireball to provide some light for them to see.

"This must lead us to his secret chamber," Leone stated as they reached a flat, cobble floor. Before them a large imposing door of iron was sealed shut. "How do we open this? Magic?" Leone asked as Dorian came up. He frowned.

"Unfortunately...a special magic…," he said, his usual humor darkened to serious.

"What do you mean?"

"It can be unlocked with some skill, but also requires blood. In particular, elf blood," Dorian said with a grimace.

"That's a thing?" Barnaby asked and all Leone could think was, 'Thank the gods we didn't bring Fenris this far'.

"Yes...some spells can be manipulated for particular requirements. Particularly for those who employ slaves they can use. I'm sorry to ask Leone, but…," Dorian turned to her and she held out her hand.

"Go ahead, Dorian. Just be quick, the longer we stay the harder it is to be subtle," she said and he nodded. He quickly ran the dagger along the side of her thumb, gathering the blood against his own hand. It had been so long since he'd thought of blood magic, let alone cast anything requiring blood. Dorian's hands swirled with purple and the flaming color blossomed into magenta, flowing out to the door which seemed to pulse then sigh softly, opening before them.

The chamber within was lit with a soft green light and Leone noticed immediately the variety of artifacts lying within. Tapestries that looked of elven history adorned the wall, scrolls were splayed out over an obsidian desk. Shelves were filled with clear flasks containing an assortment of liquids, experiments and ancient bones.

"What does this foci look like?" Barnaby asked as they spread out in the chamber.

"It is a small orb with an ornate design like a sun – at least from what I heard," Dorian said, heading towards a corner with a variety of dusty books in a stack and a discarded shield. Sighing, Barnaby went ahead and pocketed some gold, thinking he could keep some and portion some out for Isabela. Leone looked around, feeling awkward in this place with so many elven artifacts as visions of Solas playing in her mind. To the nearest left she looked down to see a chunk of wall that the Magister must have brought back to his chamber. She knelt down and touched the edge of it, looking at the fresco painting matching that back at Skyhold in the circular chamber.

Suddenly she felt a shadow pain arch through where her arm used to be. It terrified her and she nearly fell on her butt as she crouched. Her sharp intake of breath drew the attention of her companions and they looked at her as she leaned forward suddenly. An innocuous box lay beside the fresco and she lifted the lid back, hearing the hinges squeak slightly.

As the men drew near she looked down. Grey cloth covered the object sitting inside so she pulled it back and as the cloth spilled over the edges she reached down to pull it out.

Sitting within her palm was the orb.

Her non-existent arm ached with phantom pain again and she held it up higher to get a closer look. The orb was smooth, reflecting light off it in every way and the design for this one was concentric circles on two sides that stopped halfway to give way to sharp triangular carvings surrounding each pair of circles. It was just as Dorian said, the design was like a sun and the color was dark just at the last orb she had encountered but instead kept a deep crimson hue.

"This is it. We need to leave," she said, wrapping it back in the cloth. Her hand shook slightly, even her mechanical one, as she recalled what the last had taken from her body. She had a large pouch she opened to slip it within. "Let's go, men."

Together they rushed back up the stairs, Dorian closing the door behind them as he enchanted it once more using some of the dried blood from Leone that remained on his dagger. Their breath had quickened since picking the orb up, taking note of any changes and they all struggled to maintain their nerves as they went back down the dark, silent hall on the second floor.

Below the guard had not moved and they slithered down the stairs behind columns and vases again. They could not see any of the other guards and kept a quick pace that grew faster and faster to the wine cellar. Dorian's breath could be heard softly ahead of Leone and she glanced behind her.

Her ears heard the men start down the steps but her heart halted as she saw at the end of the hall a guard had just turned their way. She burst down the stairs not taking care of the door behind her and pushing against Dorian's shoulder. He did the same to Barnaby and they sprinted through the storage area to the wine cellar. They did not hear the door creak and simply ran.

Barnaby waved fearfully to Fenris as they came rushing through the door and Fenris deftly swiped the terrified servant girl into the crook of his left arm. The elf tried to contain the glow of his lyrium tattoos as he fell in behind Dorian and Leone took the rear. She did not take the time to close the door behind her and simply noted that a faint glow of light flitted through the bottom of the storage room's door at the top of the stairs.

After Leone ran out of the servant's entrance Dorian quickly locked it and slipped the key back into his pouch. Together they crouched and ran to the front gate. She began noticing a few more lights and guards had awoken in the mansion going towards the area they had left. No commotion had been started, but concern had grown within. They hoped to breach the gate and be clear at least before the Magister or his guards were fully alerted.

Everyone was panting as they came to the gate and Leone began to wonder about the young girl who looked shocked and pale. Dorian seemed weary as it was and Leone nodded to Fenris and Barnaby to get ready to scale the gate.

"I've a potion for you, although since we were sneaking it's only a bit my friend," Leone said, pulling out a small vial of glowing blue for Dorian.

"Oh, my dear, thank you. I'm feeling quite nauseous already having to try this again," he said and swallowed the vial that revitalized his magic some. "I need all of you in position, this is it and to be honest I'm already drained from all this enchanting this evening. So move your tight asses when I say so," Dorian said, his brow already twitching with unease.

"Understood," Fenris stated and primed up to pounce up the gate. He had adjusted the servant girl so that she was hanging onto him like a monkey on his chest with her arms wrapped around and clinging to his sword on his back.

Dorian braced his feet and spread his palms out, chanting and his hands glimmered with the aura of his magic pulsing soft and strong as the barrier before them wavered and broke. A small hole within it stretched and widened until it was safe for them to climb. Fenris had squatted and launched himself high upon the gate, scaling it in half the time he had before and Barnaby was at his heels. Both landed seconds apart. The servant girl had released her grasp on Fenris, but he quickly advised her against it and gripped her close as they still had to run.

Leone was next and noted Dorian's pulsing vein at his throat and forehead. "Get on me, Dorian," she called out and the mage faltered for a moment by her order. "Hurry up!"

It was hard for him to focus and the portal shook for a second but he agreed, sweat building on his face as he awkwardly wrapped his muscular arms about the body of his friend. While the same height, even a bit taller, she was lankier and he felt like a toad sitting on the back of a frog as she pulled the both of them up and over the gate. Despite seeing her take down dragons...he was amazed at how quickly she moved with his weight upon her.

Her landing was very rough though and her knees hit the cobblestone enough to make her wince. Dorian dazedly clambered off, the portal having gone out seconds after they jumped. He was on all fours in the distance trying to breath in the shadow of a bush and Leone waved to the others.

"You all leave, I'll meet you at Wolf's Den. I'll take care of him, but I need all of you to split up and we'll reconvene at our meeting place later."

Fenris was off before she could finish with the child Veras heading down the dark alleyways.

Barnaby had wiped sweat off his forehead and chucked a few gold coins Leone's way before heading towards the market area of the city where the bars would be open this late at night with drinkers and entertainers.

"Shall I take you back to the party or home?" Leone asked as her friend pressed his palm against his head, finally upright in a sitting position.

"I must go back to that party – I haven't been gone long but if I am gone an entire evening and Magister Renault discovers the missing foci...well, it won't bode well for me or my family. Especially with my connections to you and in turn our old friend. Just escort me a bit back to the area and I should be fine by then, darling," he said with a small smile. "Just one last thing, give me a moment," he said and she hesitated as he turned away to curl in half close to the bush. His body quavered and suddenly he hurled the contents of his stomach on the ground.

"Let's go, now," he said, regaining his composure and wiping his mouth as she took his arm.

"My dear friend," she cooed as she wrapped her arm in his and took him down the street. She loosened her large tunic so that it hung over her breeches. It was long and appeared more like a ragged brown dress and she pushed her cloak's hood over her face so just her brown skin and green eyes were visible.

A few eyes glanced their way but with Dorian's arm braced around her shoulder and them walking so close this late at night many turned their gazes from the mage and his presumed lover. Some of them even smirked and winked as they passed.

Little else happened on their walk and Leone escorted Dorian within a block of the party he had been at. "What is your plan now?"

"Simple, Beasty. I'll give you a quick peck and woo my way back into the servant's quarters and return to the ball. After all, I'm notorious for having an appetite for all means of lovers," he said with a wink. His face was still a bit pale but at least he quite sweating and seemed to be teasing again. He leaned in to plant a kiss on her check and she noticed a guard for this particular home glance their way before returning his gaze ahead.

She watched him walk back up to his friend's mansion and flirt openly with the guard before wiggling his way back into the party. Dorian's hand rested suggestively on the guards palm as he passed before laughing as he greeted some people within.

Leone turned and made her way back through the dark streets, trying to blend into the shadows as she walked alone now. As soon as she could she crept into empty alleys and found her way to the slums and broken area of the city. It was there she tucked her tunic up and back into her breeches, loosening her worn cloak and tossing it to the side of the road. Her sword glinted in the moonlight to ward off any thieves watching her and her white blonde hair now marked her so she couldn't hide.

After some alleys a small band of men took note of her as she walked past, but a deep voice in the group cautioned them to step down.

"She's the wolf's sister," she heard the gruff voice say and she smirked. "You best back off, they're two merchants that have worked as mercenaries for Isabela." A soft murmur went through the group and that was the height of any worry for Leone as she made her way to the shop.

However, it was only once she had crossed the threshold of Wolf's Den and locked the door behind her that she breathed a sigh of relief and rested her head on the door. Allowing her shoulders to slacken she walked past their display of goods and shelves to the office. Within Fenris sat lounging in a chair, his hand holding an open bottle of wine already. Veras sat in Barnaby's usual spot with her hands on her knees nervously.

Leone made her way to her desk. She set her shield and sword against its side. At this point she was too fatigued to light the fireplace and simply set the candle alight on her desk. Settling into her seat she heard Barnaby finally walk into their building. Rook was on his shoulders and he noted Veras sitting in his spot so he settled against the wall.

"I must say to everyone, exceptional work this evening. One of the best missions I've been a part of and I couldn't have done this without you – including you Veras. We did it," Leone said with a large smile and she held out the orb for them all to gaze upon for the first time for some and once more for others. For some reason it made her absent arm hurt and she couldn't explain so once everyone had taken a glance she wrapped it back up. "I'll keep it safe for now and update all of you on our next move tomorrow. Great job, please get some rest and relax until our next mission. Fenris, please make sure Veras is comfortable and ready for when our next shipment arrives."

With that she dismissed them and stood to walk to her tiny room. She bent to blow out the candle and heard Barnaby's foots as he left their shop. Within the tight confines of her resting area she closed her door, taking the two steps to her chest. Instead of opening it though she turned in a circle to face her worn bed and stuck her fingernail between two planks. Despite the fine appearance the one plank came up and she slipped the procured foci underneath, sliding the plank smoothly back into place.

She rested on her heels and sighed, feeling the light weight of the jawbone necklace press against her breast as the phantom pain in her arm diminished.


	7. Chapter 6: Guests of the Game

P.S. I wrote this in a daze so hoping not too many errors. I'll try to get out the next chapter soon as well so I can get to the exciting bit. Solas will still be absent in the next one as well, but don't despair. 3

 **Chapter 6: Guests of the Game**

Rumors had swirled turbulently throughout Tevinter's high ranking Magisters within days of Lord Renault's recent breakdown. No one could tell what had happened or why, but the Magister had become severely depressed and destroyed parts of his estate last the member's of the Wolf's Den knew. Dorian had kept a safe distance and avoided sending any correspondence for about a month after. It was simply on the mouth of the few nobles who came to hire the two elves as temporary bodyguards. They even had a handful of buyers come through their minuscule shop mention the Magister briefly as they handled wares within.

Fenris kept his somber attitude for the most part and Barnaby even kept to his own hiding place for a few weeks. It was on occasion when going to grab a meal or drink that Fenris and Leone caught his eye. No one spoke of the Magister's missing slave and it was as if she never existed for no trace of her could have been found in the Wolf's Den or any location associated with the free elven siblings. After those initial few weeks had passed did Barnaby come by.

The sky had been fading to a luminescent ruby when he walked through their door. Rook was nowhere to be seen, but Leone knew he was near as well.

"Hello, there. How are you doing?" Leone inquired, crossing her arms behind the shop counter.

"Just fine and proper. Where's your brother?" he asked, keeping the facade.

"He's out getting another bottle of Sun Blonde Vint. We've been doing well in business lately. How fares your work?" she asked, slowly meandering out from behind the counter and loosening the curtains to cover the windows.

"The packages have been arriving safely and no damages thus far," Barnaby responded in turn. He began to head to their office as she locked the door. Only Fenris would be able to unlock it now with his own key so she too headed to the clustered room. The procurer had seen to the fireplace himself now that he was familiar with the layout. It crackled and grew as she walked in, settling into the chair across from the desk she usually sat in. Barnaby turned to face her with a cocked brow as she sat down in what was usually Fenris's chair.

"Sometimes I tire of sitting in the boss chair," she said with a wistful sigh and leaned back.

"I've never been much of a leader myself. Any new updates since our last mission?" Barnaby asked as he decided to sit in her usual spot and tapping his fingers on the now dirty desk. Papers and ink jars littered it in a haphazard manner.

"I intended to speak with Dorian once he feels safe, but all our recent jobs have produced nothing in terms of new information. We have been able to secure more funds, gain some respect and a few shipments however. Although...we've also had some downright disgusting propositions," Leone blurted out, disgust lacing her voice.

"I can only imagine," Barnaby laughed and they both quieted as they heard Fenris entering.

He came in carrying a small satchel over his shoulder.

"I managed to find a sale today – buy Sun Blonde Vint and get some dark liquor half off. So I picked up West Hill Brandy for you Leone. Shall I pour a glass of something for you as well, Barnaby?" Fenris questioned them, continuing to move about as he spoke.

"I'll take some brandy."

"Good choice," Fenris stated as he poured into some fine glasses – albeit with a few scratches – the spirits and handed them each their serving. "To…..a warm fire," Fenris said with a bit of fatigue as his hazel eyes caught theirs for a small cheer.

"...a fire that lives within each of us," Leone added wistfully with her own weariness. She shot back the glass, drinking it all.

"Well, aren't you sad sacks a pair? Sure you aren't related?" Barnaby chuckled with a shake of his head. He sipped on the brandy slowly and twirled it in his nimble fingers.

"Barnaby's packages have arrived safely he told me," Leone supplied to Fenris who had missed the introductory conversation.

"Wonderful, it pleases me that things have proceed smoothly thus far," Fenris sighed with relief. "I must say though, Leone -"

"Yes?"

"Outside of the few side jobs and sales we've had, our work has been quite easy in the past few weeks. I think it would probably be best to continue to gather some information before we take on any other missions," Fenris began. Leone nodded her head before standing to grab some more brandy. "As such and with our friend here nearby – I would like to request some time to myself. I wish to visit family for a few days." Although he did ask, Fenris's posture stiffened slightly and it was clear he would leave whether or not Leone agreed. It was just out of polite camaraderie that he asked her first. She smiled for she knew full well if she told Fenris he could not leave for a few days that he would go on without her. A part of her bitterly wished the same could be said for her absent lover – but she pushed it away. Despite her pain she positively felt comfort knowing Hawke was cared for at such depths.

"Of course, Fenris. Do give your wife my love," she told him, turning to face him with a smile. "Is she doing well or is it a casual visit?"

"Hawke is...adventurous as usual. She's been more cautious lately though," Fenris said and something prickled on the edges of Leone's conscious. Barnaby even took a note of something strange in the gloomy grump's voice.

"What is it?" Leone asked, suddenly feeling nervous and fearful. Had something happened, was she ill?

"...well…," Fenris stammered slightly and for the first time Leone got the impression he was nervous...maybe even embarrassed. Both of them waited as he tried to – not so quietly – clear his throat and even in the dark Leone detected a tint of blush on his cheeks as he softly said, "She's pregnant."

Silence encompassed the room as heavy as an elephant.

Leone's jaw had dropped abruptly and Barnaby's eyes widened while Fenris took the time to slowly sip at his drink.

"Maker preserve us. You knocked up the Champion," Barnaby finally said and Fenris choked on his drink. Leone started laughing at the flustered elf who had spilled half his drink on his lap. It was a wondrous moment and she wasn't really surprised, she just needed a second to imagine the Champion...pregnant. The woman who had nearly sacrificed herself but a few years ago at her word…she was alive and carrying her new companion's child.

Even Fenris couldn't glower at this time and a smirk appeared on his visage.

"Hell, my friend…," Leone started, trying to refrain from stuttering as she had swallowed a second drink and was pouring herself a third, "You can leave tonight."

"...I think I'll take you up on that. Care to have mine, Barnaby?" Fenris asked, handing the half empty glass to the thief. The blonde man nodded and took the glass.

"Be safe," he said and Fenris nodded. Before he took off Fenris came to stand by Leone's side.

"Whatever you do – don't do any mission before I return," Fenris said and Leone turned to him with a smile.

"Of course not," she said, reflecting a similar smirk. It felt strange momentarily between them and for a second she wondered – was this what it felt like to have a brother? She brushed it away and realized his countenance had grown sober once again. "Oh – what is it now brother?" she said, exaggerating the word 'brother' with heavy exasperation as she swaggered back to a cushioned chair.

"Promise me you won't," he requested with an edge to his voice. She bit back a chuckle as she took in the darkness hiding his face. Leone could tell it was important to him.

"I promise."

"Blood promise?"

"What?" both her and Barnaby sat up straight as Fenris unsheathed a short dagger and drew it across his palm. Blood skirted to the surface and he held his hand out. Stumbling slightly Leone moved quickly to draw her dagger before he bleed on the carpet. Her intoxicated mind though that was a silly concern – why was she so worried about the carpet? She was cutting herself to appease her brot – her too serious friend?

Her swaying mind barely registered their hands meeting and the cuts crossing, the tattoos on his body flaring briefly before returning to alabaster white. Then he nodded with content and gathered his things. She chuckled realizing he had packed earlier and even said so. Fenris smiled faintly at the two of them before taking his leave.

"When do you think he'll return?" Barnaby asked, taking the opportunity to pour another glass of the mostly full Sun Blonde that Fenris left behind.

Leone shifted and then pulled her chair closer to the desk so that her and Barnaby were closer. She went to grab both bottles and bring them back to settle between the two. It was a night of cheer and drinking, she wanted to feel the warmth of freedom from her memories. "Perhaps in a week, but no sooner. I know I wouldn't."

"Ah, yes. Love is quite exhilarating, dear. Tell me about your travels and such since we have plenty to drink before the sun rises," Barnaby suggested.

"Oh...I'm sure the tales have already come around about the Inquisitor and her ragtag band. And the great betrayer among them. Why not tell me tales of yourself Barnaby? What about you and that voluptuous pirate mistress I saw?"

"Well…," Barnaby replied with a quick clearing of his throat, "You'll have to allow me another drink of that brandy before I tell you about those escapades my dear. Or a kiss may do as well. Dear Isabela would be so jealous," he said with a wink.

A deep well of fear and loneliness welled up within Leone. It had been years since she had seen Solas. He had kept his distance and in their last meeting he had simply done his best to rescue her from his failure only to separate them again. Should she give other men a chance? She might never see Solas again if his wish met fruition. Tears filled her eyes rapidly and Barnaby caught the sheen of glistening moisture on her orbs of red.

"Ah, just teasing my sweet – I know you're heart aches for our fair lady," he said with a jovial laughter, gently grasping her callused hand. He planted a chaste kiss on it and sat it down, "What story shall I tell you about her? Perhaps our first meeting?" The kind and simple kiss had caught Leone off guard and dispelled the brief spell of desolation. She smiled, eagerly awaiting his tale.

"Yes, dear. Sounds wonderful," Leone announced, settling back into her chair as she pushed thoughts of Solas as far as she could.

After a full hangover and a week had passed Leone heard word from Dorian. Or more like Dorian had stopped by and begged her to attend a social event with her as his guest. He had been bored to death with the usual faces and missed her companionship. Also – he had heard some interesting things about the former slave turned Magister Deidre. Thus, following his begging and persuasion Leone asked if Barnaby would watch Wolf's Den for an evening while she attended the ball.

Leone wouldn't admit it, but she had missed some of the social gatherings and exciting events that being Inquisitor had allowed her to attend. _The heady blend of power, intrigue, danger and sex._ Her mind blanked, refusing to recall whom had spoke such words...but his face still showed brilliantly in her mind.

"What is this event again?" she had thought to ask just the evening of as Dorian held her arm as they entered a fabulously wealthy estate. Gardens full of exotic flowers lined the ornate steps to the dusky building. Guards dressed in solemn, dark colors which hid their features also decorated the lawns and walkways leading to the estate. Coming up the stairs she held her gown in her hand as she stared into the main hall visible from outside. The estate was so fine it held a giant fountain inside with a fabulous jewel casting rainbow lights upon the interior.

"It is a party being held by one of my associates, a fellow Altus named Frederic Kahnen. He's been an ardent admirer of my skills and a rather patient gentleman. However he is a bit traditional so while he may taste flavors such as those I enjoy he maintains the proper image of an Altus unlike myself. Fallen whore that I am," Dorian informed Leone as he adjusted the belt on his fine clothing.

"Are you sure I'll be welcome?" Leone checked again. She had been surprised the Pavus family had barely batted an eye when she came in with Dorian who asked if she might borrow a gown for the evening.

"It's a party, darling. Nothing official or meant to improve standing. A good time for those in power to show off their wealth, status and drink every bit of liquor in sight. Are you ready?" he asked with a devilish smirk as they were greeted by guards.

"May I see your invitation, sir?" asked a tall man with the whites of his eyes surrounded by dark kohl that drew their sight. His eyes were captivating and Dorian whistled slightly. The guard frowned by took the scroll Dorian presented him with. He nodded stiffly and handed it back to him. Dorian was tempted to push his luck when a voice called out.

"Dorian!" called out a high voice excitedly and nearby Leone saw a woman come closer.

He sighed as Leone noticed the bejeweled pointed ears. The elf was gorgeous and she wore jewels on her entire body that glistened as she drew near. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and glimmered down like a waterfall. Black, slender links decorated her sharp ears and linked to dangling metallic roses that hung from her ears. A tight choker of similar design spread out on her frail chest and stopped just before the low cut of her top which pressed her cleavage high in the detailed, plum dress. Full lips were painted a dark plum color as well. Leone felt overwhelmed by the woman's beauty.

"My, my. You have beautiful eyes," the elf said excited as she drew near to Leone. "Will you introduce me, Dorian?" she asked as a small group of admirers followed in her trail. One of those men included the man Frederic Kahnen himself.

"Good evening, Deidre. Ah! And my friend, Frederic I told you about," Dorian said, trying to brush off the pushy elf some but she continued forward to admire Leone. Frederic himself stopped for a minute awaiting introduction as he stared at this stranger, "This is my dear friend Leone from my time in Fereldan. She's been curious about the fashion and culture here."

The small group took in the vision of the statuesque elf. They weren't sure what it was, she was not a beauty like Deidre but this slender woman had an air of authority and power. Her gaze was fierce and her lunar colored hair flew in tendrils like clouds. Deidre was certainly the obvious gem of the room in her adorned gown and accessories, but the simple, tight black gown that encased the stranger held them enraptured.

"Pleasure to meet all of you, friends of Dorian," Leone said graciously, bowing before them.

"The pleasure is ours," Frederic said quickly with Deidre at his side.

"I'm always thrilled to see another elf in our presence," Deidre exclaimed, clasping her palms together as she drew close again. "I would be thrilled to chat with you about your experiences in Fereldan."

"Ah – not much to discuss," Leone remarked, trying not to place her hand on her hip and recall any advice she had ever received from Vivienne. At least she remembered to bow although right now all she could think was how impressed Vivienne would be by this Deidre. "It's a rather simple place with a fondness for Mabari. I even consider taking one in myself."

"I've heard of the Fereldan's obsession with dogs," Deidre remarked as Dorian and Frederic discussed some Magisterium politics. Despite appearance, the blonde elf kept her heavily weighed ears tuned into that conversation as well while she observed the delicate appearing woman before her. "I do adore having another elf – particularly a woman here," the magister said and she dipped her voice low, "...they treat us with social grace as if we're exotic creatures. It's...annoying. A flicker of eye lashes and a tight waist and half the men flock our way." Then the woman stepped back from her and flicked her wrist. "Come, let's grab a drink."

Leone was intrigued by this powerful woman, an elf that had come from slavery and risen above her oppressors to be one of them. A niggling edge in her mind felt wary but she kept sight of Dorian as she sat with this woman.

"Are you a mage like us?" she asked as she waved for an attendant. He was garbed in simple, but delicate clothing to lay flutes of champagne before them.

"No, I've trained as a Champion," Leone remarked as she sipped and watched as the band set up with an enchanting singer coming to the forefront.

"Really? That's interesting. You look so..." she struggled to find a word for a moment.

"Frail and delicate?" Leone suggested and chuckled. "I get that often, mostly before I stand in the way of someone who gets an unwelcome surprise."

Deidre looked at her with broad smile and then laughed wholeheartedly which drew a few stares. Leone saw Dorian try to break away from Frederic, but the man grabbed his forearm suddenly. She was tempted to stand but stopped as Deidre laid a soft palm on her hand.

"Don't mind them...just a simple disagreement. Dorian is charming and will disarm Frederic in a moment," Deidre informed her. "I get that too sometimes," she added which confused Leone.

"You argue with others?"

"No," she laughed behind her manicured hand, "They think I'm frail and delicate." A twinge nibbled at Leone's intuition again, something about this woman seemed...off and dangerous. "I must say dear, while I captivate the attendees on average you seem to have distracted a few yourself this evening."

"I just came here to see how the Imperium parties," Leone said with a wiggle of her brows and a gentle smile.

"You're a free spirit, then. Traveling the world with no ties to your home," Deidre stated, "Nothing that keeps you under pressure. Sounds delightful. I wonder though…."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever imagined being able to cast magic? What you could do?" she pondered aloud, fingers resting on the stem of the glass.

"What do you mean?" Leone asked as she tried to keep herself calm. She felt herself fully alert.

"It's just…," Deidre said and moved towards Leone, resting her arm on the table they sat at with her hand still on the flute Leone drank from. To outsiders it might seem like a flirtation but Deidre's voice flitted up to her ears, "...have you heard of Fen'Harel?"

It would be foolish to lie to her Leone knew, she was a smart woman. Sharp and on point. Any elf – goodness – any person within the continent had heard of the rumored god returning to lift his people back to their former glory taken from them by the humans.

"Yes. Do you know him?" Leone asked, leaning in herself. It was already a hook, she was curious what this Magister might know.

"Me? Oh, no! I wish!" she squealed with laughter as if Leone had told a hilarious joke. She pulled back and softly so only Leone could hear she told her, "He says he'll return magic to all of us. We'll all be powerful again." A gleam had lit up the azure eyes framed by wisps of golden blonde hair as the woman looked behind Leone. "I have something..." she trailed off as a voice boomed behind Leone.

"Miss me, darling?" Dorian asked and Leone saw him from the corner of her eye.

"Always," Leone turned to face him, excited to be free of the conversation with Deidre. This Magister alarmed her. It was odd seeing as how she supported So – well, Fen'Harel, but it felt wrong to Leone.

"If you'll excuse us, I would like a dance with my dear guest," Dorian teased Deidre.

"Of course, of course. I'll go placate Frederic, I see his feathers have been smoothed a bit, but he could use some more consolation," the Magister mentioned as she stood to leave them. Her body swayed slightly as she left them. Dorian pulled Leone close to his body and she sensed his tense form. They moved to the dance floor and he placed his hands on her hips.

She knew they'd talk after this but for the moment he smiled.

"Shall we show them Beasty?" he challenged her and arched his back ever so slightly into proper form.

"Why, of course," she responded and tilted her head downward to meet his gentle eyes.

The rest of their night was spent this way, him holding her in his arms and together they danced in intricate designs and circles as if their forlorn lovers might feel the passion within that they created despite the distance. Together they moved without stopping and sweat soaked their bodies as the on-lookers cheered. Frederic and Deidre had taken place beside the duo to complement the pair and dance feverishly as well although Deidre did stop enough so she did not sweat or ruin her gown.

For the first time in weeks Leone forgot her fears and goals, taking another moment for herself to enjoy the fast beat of her heart within the company of a dear friend. Hours later and flutes of champagne gone Leone asked Dorian to escort her home. After recently recovering from a hangover she didn't intend to finish another night in such a fashion. On their way out she was stopped by Deidre once more. To be honest she hoped she only imagined her brow raising in an agitated fashion when the woman stopped her.

"I hope we meet again, Leone. I'd love to discuss our heritage another time alone," she remarked as Dorian kept pulling on Leone's arm.

"Yes, I'm sure we shall. I'm eager to learn as well," Leone said trying to hurriedly think of something witty and kind so she could leave without drawing out this discussion. Deidre released her hand and waved as the two guests stumbled down the staircase.

"Ah, Dorian. You do know how to show a girl a good time," Leone teased her companion.

"Now, now, dear. Don't go falling in love with me. You won't be able to satisfy me," he stated sincerely with a wagging finger. She could only guffaw at his laughter and watched as his eyes lingered on the guard they encountered on their way in.

"Ay! Ay! Don't forget the Bull!" she warned him as they made their way to the street.

"I'm just admiring the regal state of their guards," Dorian saucily accosted her.

"Yep, just like I admire Iron Bull's muscular arms for their power," her retort came almost TOO quick and swift so that Dorian stared at her in mock horror.

"Well, I'll be! I'll have you know I've admired Solas in his time," Dorian challenged, "Those pants of his left little to the imagination my dear."

"You should have seen his imagination then," Leone upped the ante. Together they cackled as they combined forces to manage a straight line to the Pavus mansion. After some time both lonely members leaned on each other for emotional comfort and physical support getting to the home safe. A dense fog had worked its way in from the port and settled through the neighborhood as the Pavus residence came into view. Just outside the tall gates Dorian paused.

"I...I need to warn you Leone."

"Huh?" she questioned him, feeling her chest tighten at his tone. It was foreboding and haunted.

"That woman you spoke with...there are rumors she had similar interests to that Magister Renault. He accused her of trying to add to her collection when news had slipped about his recent condition with depression and episodes. Apparently they had worked closely together."

Leone stared at him. "When were you going to tell me about her?"

"I...I had considered tell you this new information earlier and to have your associate confirm what they could. That she may have another...piece per chance," he explained and turned to Leone, grasping her hands in his with a pleading tone, "But I wanted you to meet her first."

"Why?"

"Didn't you sense it yourself? I've followed you to what might have been my end...I can't imagine you wouldn't be able to sense it," he replied and looked into her eyes. Fear settled deep in his chocolate orbs, a fear she hadn't seen in some time.

"What do you fear so?" she asked, not relenting an answer for now but returning his gentle hold.

"Please stay away from her. I don't think it's worth the risk."

"We've fought demons and dragons and...so much more," Leone soothed him with her thumb running over his hands.

"She's...too fascinated. Obsessed with Fen'Harel and I've heard word of strange experiments…," Dorian mentioned and suddenly clammed up.

"Experiments?" Leone asked, pulling him into nearby shrubbery. The guards at the Pavus mansion had already seen the master and guest so took little notice of the questionable action.

"She's obsessed with elves having magic and power...she's tried different actions. Please, just…," Dorian again began to warn her but Leone stopped him with a finger.

"There's more at risk than you or I, Dorian," she hesitated to remind him. "Have faith."

His beautiful face broke into a frown but slowly he replaced with a snarky smile. Then he took her hand in his and the serious discussion was dismissed. He said little else but jovial suggestions and kind comments as they retired for the evening.

Despite her reminder Leone felt as Dorian did. Something was off about the woman, but if the rumors were to be true...they had not had a lead on more Elvhen artifacts or foci in some time...it might be their next chance. She would wait a bit longer, but Fen'Harel was becoming more relevant in powerful as the days passed. Leone could not hold out and wait for more information in this region. If Deidre was her next target she would have to act as soon as possible before the woman asked her anymore questions to read her.


	8. Chapter 7: Diabolical Deeds

**Chapter 7: Diabolical Deeds**

Weeks later Fenris appeared on the doorstep of Wolf's Den. Leone hoped his trip had been as joyful as she imagined. She knew he'd be anxious leaving his wife again. In the time alone she only took on a few sparse bodyguard jobs - protecting this Magister's flank or escorting a mistress to her lover. Mainly she had kept up the shop and managed to sell some more wares, mostly jewelry and some daggers that people had taken a liking to. Barnaby kept scouting for news and corresponding with Isabela to see any information she might have discovered. So far it had been dull and boring as Leone carried about her business, occasionally spending nights sharing pints at the nearby tavern with some new acquaintances she had garnered.

"Evening, Fenris," she said, watching as he walked in with his cloak hood still covering his face. Droplets of rain rolled off the black cloth and left a puddle beneath his boots.

"Evening, Leone. How's business?" he asked as he turned to hang his cloak on a hook, running his fingers through shaggy blonde hair that had grown longer in his absence.

"The usual. How was the family?"

"Doing well," is all he said, "It's still early so I'll probably visit again in a few months."

"Of course! I wouldn't think otherwise," Leone exclaimed, a smile gracing her mouth.

"Have you anything to share with me?" Fenris inquired and came behind the counter to lean against the shelves beside her.

"I have some rumors I will share with you and Barnaby this evening. Do you want to grab him from the tavern before you relax since your cloak is still damp? I'll get the fire blazing for your return," Leone suggested and bent down to lock away the coin the store had made for the day.

"Alright, I'll fetch him. Let's keep this quick tonight, I'm rather exhausted from today," Fenris explained as he grabbed his still dripping cloak and fastened it about him.

"Yes, I agree," Leone said and as he went to leave she set about closing up the store and locking anything valuable up for the night. Since their opening no thieves had dared to set foot in the Wolf's Den, not with the twin mercenaries for hire who had quite the reputation as the owners. Still – vigilance is what kept them safe and it would not do to become complacent in their protection. Minrathous rumors fell and rose like the waves crashing into the shoreline but nothing of substance had reached her lengthy ears since Magister Renault's breakdown. In her boredom she had organized the office so it was neater and decorated slightly with a few worn touches here and there. Just a day ago she had cleaned the fireplace so no soot lay within its confines as she placed the wood within the grate to light it.

Sparks and crackles filled the air as warmth spread in caresses throughout the room. Until now she had not noticed the cold that had seeped into her bones so abruptly. She felt terribly weary. As a courtesy she had become accustomed to opening the spirits in the bookshelf to pour each of them a glass for their meetings. It was comforting to watch the dark liquid tranquilly pour from the decanter into the snifter. Both men arrived promptly with a chill wind following their tracks and the shadow of soaked floorboards.

"Evening, I've poured you both a drink already," Leone said and took her usual place near the fire.

"Maker be with us. It's so cold my balls have climbed into my chest," Barnaby said with a sudden shiver. "How are you not ill traveling in this?" he questioned Fenris.

"It was not the most pleasant route, but I didn't intend to leave you both alone for much longer. Any later and there could be snow fall. Luckily I know how to keep warm so I've kept my balls in place," he stated smartly and sipped on the burning drink that warmed his throat first and spread through his belly. "Gods, I didn't realize how cold I was until now." Despite his previous statement Fenris rubbed his nose and sniffled slightly.

"Well – I'll get to the point so we can all retire somewhere warm. The truth is our only real lead for anymore artifacts and potential foci rest with a woman I encountered while you were gone. She is familiar with Dorian and is a former slave turned Magister," Leone explained. Fenris kept his gaze on her face and Barnaby shifted in his seat. A shuffle nearby alerted Leone to Rook's presence.

"Dorian is very concerned because this woman has quite the array of connections within the Imperium despite her background and lineage..."

"Lineage?" Barnaby questioned.

"She is an elf. In the small discourse I had with her she seemed rather fascinated with the ideas and rumors surrounding Fen'Harel. Also, when Magister Renault suffered his breakdown after our job some of the prominent members of the Magisterium claim he threw blame on this Magister Deidre. It would also appear that she is considerably close with a friend of Dorian's, an Archon named Frederic Kahnen."

"So? She's an elf that people blame their troubles for," Fenris stated dismissively with a wave of his hand. His eyes were low and she could read the fatigue in them.

"I would say I get the feeling she is...obsessed with elves gaining powers like magic again through a myriad of questionable ways."

"What the hell does that mean?" Barnaby asked and Rook for once flew near to his friend. The bird seemed to be cold as well for he nestled against Barnaby's neck.

"Dorian said she has prodded him often about the elves he encountered in Fereldan. This woman has done research into lyrium tattoos and during my little talk with her she brought up this idea of all elves having magic," Leone told them. She could tell for certain that Fenris was drained of all energy for despite his hatred of mages, let alone the topic of lyrium tattoos which she feared he'd explode over, he simply closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"Can mages never leave well enough alone?" he finally moaned and closed his eyes. "Please don't tell Hawke I said that," he said with a flinch, recalling his wife's own expansive powers. He downed the rest of his fine drink and sat up. "What is the plan then, fearless leader?"

"Dorian asked me not to pursue her, but with the lack of leads for the past few months and nothing else to grasp onto...it may be time to scout her home and find what she could be hiding. At worst we'll be able to free a few more slaves, at best we find another foci before Fen'Harel does or catches us. His name is becoming more and more prevalent on the lips of the slaves we...encounter," Leone caught herself about to say 'rescue' and paused. "I will beg Dorian to help us, but I must confess I feel uneasy about this woman as well."

This time it was Barnaby who sighed a bit.

"I'm going to take extra precautions before we carry out this mission and it will take time to set everything in order. So for now, scout the best to your ability and make sure your weapons are pristine. Barnaby, do you have a way out of the area if anything falls through?" Leone asked.

"Certainly. Besides I believe my lady may be returning to port soon here," Barnaby winked as he finished the sentence.

"Wonderful. Fenris – we can discuss our fall back plan tomorrow. I think you may pass out in that chair if we stay any longer. Oh – and Barnaby, is your place warm enough? You can stay here if it's not as comfortable," Leone offered.

"Oh, no, no. It's plenty warm, me and Rook here will just retire for the evening and rest up. Sounds like this next mission just may lose me a few hairs and perhaps Rook a few feathers," he said with a chuckle which halfway transitioned to a harsh sneeze. "Oh no – I best be getting home as well. Before we all spread a cold."

Each of them retired to their beds and layers of blankets in the damp, chilled evening.

Weeks later Leone had gathered intelligence about the Magister Deidre and her estate. Barnaby had scouted the area from afar with Rook's assistance and abilities. Fenris had also done his own reconnaissance as well as taking the brunt of requesting Dorian to come visit their shop once all three had felt prepared to scale the woman's estate – with or without Dorian.

There was no need to setup in the office for Dorian's thunderous mood as he trampled through the door. His caramel complexion had darkened into a scowl and for once in his presence, Fenris smiled and winked at Leone as the mage turned on her. Barnaby was resting up for their next adventure so he didn't have to worry about receiving an earful of advice from the irate Magister within the Wolf's Den. Luckily her last patron had left moments earlier so she locked the door behind him as he stared her down.

"Dorian -,"

"NOW SEE HERE! I told YOU that...that woman is DANG-ER-OUS? Do you read these buxom lips of mine? Cause whether or not you can hear I'm sure you can read my lips. This is a terrible idea, bordering on insane in terms of risk!" Dorian shouted at her and for once she saw a tint of red flush his cheeks from anger.

"Dorian, we have fought demons from the Fade, defeated dragons. How can you -"

"No, no!" Dorian halted her again, wagging his finger as Fenris sat in a corner to watch the tirade and simply planted a smile on his face. "This is different! Before you had a team of expert members – no offense Fenris – but two soldiers and a thief are NOT a team! Besides the support of an army and practically two entire continents not ruined by red lyrium! You are not part of an army or organization anymore. You disbanded that entire group!" he warned her. "Is this some suicide mission? I have returned to this bastion of judgment and expectations to help you – but I don't know anymore if I truly am?" he completed his thought and she felt vulnerable suddenly to this accusation.

"You think I'm doing this...because…?" she motioned openly with her hand out, sensing what he was going to say and stiffening before the words left his mouth.

"I think you're throwing yourself into danger in the hopes you will see a shadow of your old friend," Dorian announced and even Fenris stilled at the tone. "I cannot take part in a suicide mission that will just throw you in extreme danger!" The air thrummed with tension and the usually broody elf was shocked to silence as Leone took in what Dorian had said. Her eyes closed as she breathed slowly trying not to let the wave of fury and indignation overwhelm her into saying something she'd regret. Dark thoughts and judgments flooded her mind to hang at the tip of her tongue. Even her mouth had opened slightly but she halted anything from flowing out.

"I think you should leave," Fenris spoke up out of nowhere and Leone was shocked.

The tall, slender man had stood up and approached the flustered mage quickly. Gently as he could he pressed an armored hand upon the luxurious leathers that Dorian wore. "It is for the best you go now. At this point you'd simply be a distraction," Fenris informed the man who glowered even more which revealed his few wrinkles more so.

"Well, excuse me, sir! But -"

"That's enough, Dorian. I asked you as a friend, but you have expressed your concerns. I think it best you leave," Leone said with a solemn smile his way. It was hollow and empty but it was better than the hurt that still arced across her chest. "Please, I'll update you when it's over," she said. Dorian stood there, uncertainty and concern crossing his face as he reached out. Despite her love for him, Leone didn't want to be touched and she walked away. "Not right now, Dorian."

With that she disappeared into the office and Dorian was left alone with his judgments as Fenris watched him. A few moments later the passionate man left and Fenris sighed. He had his own fears about this mission, but the truth was…they had no leads. While Leone would stay and help the slaves he knew part of their deal was locating ways to challenge the Fen'Harel breathing down their necks. Scratching his neck he went into the den they shared to see her walking even further away, stopping only to look up as she closed her bedroom door behind her.

At that point Fenris didn't see fear or pain in her eyes, just an overwhelming fatigue.

Fenris returned to the shop entrance to check the locks and double check their fail safe had been prepared before tonight's excursion. Once all was secure and to his satisfaction he went to his own room. In the background he lightly heard Leone shifting on her bed while he took the time to lean back in his own. His fingers trailed beneath his tunic to pull out a red ribbon with a silver locket dangling upon it. Popping it open he admired the two portraits within it, for on the left was a mini portraiture of his love in her relaxing clothes bearing her family crest and on the right was a simple, ivory white dress she wore on their wedding. Hawke had not originally planned on much besides a pleasant gown, but then she had become adamant about finding something white. Later he learned it was because she wondered what her mother would think looking down on her and felt she would appreciate her daughter showing a touch of tradition in her ceremony.

Closing the locket with a soft click he leaned into the soft, down pillow and allowed his eyelids to fall. Memories of Hawke at their small ceremony filled his mind, her laughter and her snorting. Jovial dreams filtered in as he drifted off for a short slumber.

Hours later the crew had gathered to meet, garbed in worn, dark leather.

"Can we do this? Without the mage?" Barnaby questioned as Leone adjusted the straps on her chest keeping the sword scabbard on her back. She had pulled it tight, feeling the weight of the sword mold to her shoulder bones. A heavy sigh whistled past her drawn lips, her teeth clenching as she tried to focus her brain on how they would manage. Dorian had been such a trusted rock she had not even considered his absolute refusal and it pained her to fathom it now. It would be incredibly difficult no doubt, for Dorian had allowed them to enter the gardens of the other Magister without resorting to desperate tricks of diversion.

"I thought on this earlier. While I confess I did not expect his refusal, it is not entirely impossible that we gain access to the Magister Deidre's mansion without him. It is far too late to request the assistance of another mage and be certain of their loyalty to us. Instead we will have to use wit and skill to work out way within," Leone stated, her voice steady and unwavering as she spoke. "Without Dorian one of you will have to cause a distraction outside of her estate. It will draw attention for enough time that we can slip within the immediate wards and infiltrate her home. Once inside we will make our way to the laboratory on her second floor. I doubt she would hide anything in a similar fashion to Magister Renault. This mission will be swift as possible. I have a map detailed from a servant within the mansion we have gained the trust of and we will take some of them with us if we can...however, given the state of our team…," she held her breath and braced herself for Fenris's ire as she stated, "...we cannot guarantee their safety and our escape."

His anger was visible on his face and although she saw his jaw working to open his mouth for an argument she then saw the resignation flood his face. It was an argument they had had many times, but the harsh reality was...if they were caught or their secret revealed...well there would be no more liberations of the enslaved of Tevinter.

"Fine," he gritted out, his green eyes flashing and looking up into hers. He was not pleased by any means, but at least his acknowledgment and acceptance shined there. Barnaby nodded as well, his usual demeanor oppressed and somber. He too had a copy of the Magister's mansion layout and patted his belt and pockets, checking for the traps and tricks he might have to rely on for their survival.

"I...I don't mean to worry either of you, but…," Leone began and both looked at her with wide eyes. They needed her faith in them, both were already nerves and uncertainty, "...I would like to take this moment to pray together. I don't know much about the Elven pantheon anymore...nor the Maker but if either of you know one…," she requested.

"I know a few Chantry canticles, if you don't mind me reciting one?" Barnaby offered awkwardly, blushing slightly as Fenris raised a brow.

"Please, go on," she replied.

He breathed in and held out his hands to the two elves on either side of him, Rook had come inside along with him and rested so his beak lay on the thief's cheek. Taking a long, soothing exhale Barnaby began.

"And the People raised the blades of the fallen soldiers to the heavens

And rejoiced. And Shartan said to them:

'No longer are we hunted! We shall never again

Be prey, waiting to be struck down!

Let us take up the blades of our enemies

And carve a place for ourselves in this world!'

The People heard him, and girded themselves

In the armor of the dead

And sharpened their blades and arrows

And prepared for war."

He paused for a moment after he recited the small canticle and finished with, "Maker be with us, Andraste guide us." All together they nodded and Leone donned a small hood that hid most of her face, the rest covered by a handkerchief as she had instructed the others to do.

"Let us go, then," she said and together the crew silently left their obscure shop, locked and forlorn behind them as a misting rain fell over the city in the silent night. Their feet made no sound on the dirt or the cobblestone as they hit the wealthier side of the city. The group had to halt several times on their path for stealth as this area was guarded heavily and had few alleyways built near to shadow in.

This trip already felt much longer and heavier on Leone's soul as they encroached on Magister Deidre's territory. Try as she might, an overwhelming cloud of despair had settled in and she feared Dorian might be correct. She forced it away as she had all day but it kept assaulting her mind. In the dark her eyes could make out the iron gates before them held Dalish designs and it shocked her this Magister would celebrate them so. Guards were posted on either side and as they settled beneath the black darkness beneath overgrown brush she gave out her plan.

"Fenris...I would like you to distract the guards. There is a possibility you may be able to join us with your powers once we get through," Leone informed him. "Worst case, I would be aided most by Barnaby's wiles and concoctions once inside the mansion. If anything happens though or you need to for your own safety – run, do not wait for us, please go. I will take care of the rest here," Leone ordered him. She was caught off guard that Fenris simply nodded and did not argue with him. It seemed her loss of Dorian's support had caused him to step up as a reliable shoulder. "Stay at my side, Barnaby," she said and the thief nodded, releasing Rook to scout from the air for concerns as they moved in. "Move out."

With that Fenris apparated behind the mansion guards and knocked him out cold. He purposely did it so the other guard caught the motion at the last minute and screamed out the alarm. More guards and some mages came out from the front hall as Leone and Barnaby sneaked inside. As Fenris became crowded with soldiers on his flanks and mages throwing hexes at him Barnaby tossed a smoke bomb and healing potion his way. The angry brute of an elf flitted out of existence momentarily before reappearing to gouge out the heart of an irate mage. They had no time to admire Fenris true prowess in battle as they practically were kneeling in the ground as they jogged through the front gardens of the property to the main hall. Most of the guards had fled to immediately assist the gate guards so the initial areas were clear and shouts could still be heard behind them.

As the duo climbed stairs and shaped their bodies to vases, furniture, sculptures and pillars to hide Fenris battled on. His large sword swept in great arcs and he leapt with ferocity against the wave surrounding him. Fire had singed his armor and burnt a few wisps of snow white hair, but those fools had been dealt with. Both of them had fed his sword and bloodlust so now he stared at the remaining guards with seething hatred. Part of him felt it was so inherently wrong, so wrong, that an elf had her people enslaved with these...paid pawns protecting her. He wished he could end her life just as he had Danarius. Instead he would deal with these fools and ensure Leone and Barnaby's safety before the night was over. Quickly he blocked a downward blade as his inner thoughts ended.

"Hurry, hurry," Leone whispered as her and Barnaby kept their breathing stilled and low to avoid detection from the few guards remaining inside. She was surprised she had not seen the Magister yet with the commotion outside and it concerned her. Something felt terribly wrong and her heart beat its fears against her rib cage in a staccato rhythm. Immediately she wanted to tell Barnaby to leave her behind but first she knew he would not and second...whatever was wrong...it was too late to change. Leone felt it deep within her bones.

Less guards appeared on the second floor near the area marked as the laboratory and they noted a small, worn book with edges peeling back lay on the small table beside a door.

"The servants...they are hiding in that storage room…," she whispered to Barnaby. He nodded in agreement. Together they moved, gingerly testing the floorboards as they crept across to assess if there might be any hidden dangers, traps or magics. "Whatever happens, I want you to get them as far to safety as you can."

"Yes, Lavellan," Barnaby said and sensing her warning, loosened the daggers on his belt for ease of access. He rolled his shoulders as they approached the laboratory door. Magic emanated from its frame and he shivered slightly. It was strong and a scent of sourness touched his nostrils. Leone sensed someone waited inside. They would have to try another distraction, meeting a Magister head on would destroy their plan.

"I need you to distract her, I will slip in when she leaves. Do it so that you can come back this way though," Leone ordered him and he grinned.

"Of course," and with that he disappeared from her view as she pressed against the stiff side of a pillar and she barely could detect his body moving further down the hall to a room just on the other side of the lab. Within moments the elven warrior detected a powdery smell and suddenly a large explosion filled the hall, wood splintering into the hallway and blinding white light illuminating the hall so that she shrunk herself into half trying to hide.

Brilliantly, in seconds the Magister finally appeared, her face blessedly turning away as she rushed down the hall with flowing robes trailing behind her as slender fingers glimmered with ready magic. Quickly, as moments were all she had, Leone slipped into the lab and got to work tearing through everything. They had already caused a scene and there was no going back.

In a fever she rushed to go through drawers, trying not to focus on the strangeness in this brick room, stripped of fashion and décor. She tried not to be alarmed by the strange table in the middle of the floor with its metal chains or the smell of blood rising from it. Potion bottles and lyrium vials adorned the desk and shelves of the room. Feeling anxiety flood her Leone tightened her fists so hard the leather squealed in protest. This woman was obsessed with magical power, particularly elvhen magic and the experiments with lyrium tattoos. Sweat pooled on her brow and upper lip as Leone began to feel this mission might be a failure. Without question the Magister would return here soon, if only to make sure the door to the room was sealed to hide her secrets. Anyone with a sense of smell or vision could see terrible experiments had occurred in this place and still Leone cast one last glance over the room as her stomach lurched. Had she led her dear, trusted friends into a suicide mission? Was Dorian right that she had simply been a fool?

Despair clutched at her heart as she made her way to the door.

Then she saw it, beneath that heavy sinful table the floorboards did not align.

Rushing to it she noticed the slim notches that her fingers could barely clasp to and she hauled the floorboards up.

There, there it was. She knew it.

More dull than the other two she had seen, a smooth ball the color of dung lay there. It was marred by scratches and chunks missing here or there but her heart soared at the discovery. Despite her lack of magic though she knew there was a barrier around it. She had no choice and reached down, but did so with her prosthetic arm made of magic. It was ridiculous, obscene and stupid she knew but with nothing else up her sleeve she did so.

When she came to her vision blurred and she was staring at the sky. A ringing filled her ears and it took her a second to realize she lay on her back, a chunk of the ceiling gone overhead. It felt as if she moved through mud as she rolled over to her chest and in abject horror she saw the Magister there trembling in anger.

"NO!" screamed the Magister, seeing the orb that glowed a sudden effervescent light within the other elf's hand. Her damaged ears heard nothing and only saw the Magister's mouth move in front of her and the woman's hands moved before her, preparing to attack. She screamed as loud as she could and prayed to whoever might listen - the Old Gods, Andraste, the Maker – whoever remained at her side in the stifling darkness that someone would hear. Quickly standing with her last bit of strength she threw the foci above her into the night sky with all her strength as she was hit with a blazing stream of fire. It hit her bluntly and singed her leathers, she had no strength to hold her shield and it was as the flames scorched her she realized the arm Dorian and Vivianne gifted her was gone...ash on the ground. A dark part of her laughed, even not here Dorian's disapproval had taken this token from her. The Magister's beautiful face was viciously changed in her frustration and fury as she approached the weak warrior.

For the first time in some while Leone felt puny and insignificant. No one would come for her now. Not when they thought she was lost and her status gone. She was all alone and this hideous woman who normally was gorgeous beyond compare stood over her in disgust, kicking aside the wounded woman as she searched for the orb that had been in the elf's hand. A hearty cough retched Leone from her inner collapse and she saw on her armor that blood had sprayed on her chest...her own blood?

Her hearing had just come back as the Magister finally kneeled beside her, the lithe woman showing surprising strength as she ripped Leone from the ground by her leather armor. Staring deep into Leone's eyes without faltering she said in a dangerously heated voice, smooth as whiskey, "You have taken an opportunity from me foolish imbecile. I shall see to it you afford me another with the great one come to save us!" As the woman's blue eyes flashed again Leone could not think of anything else, for she coughed again and before another assault could assail her from the Magister she fainted from blood loss. The bloody spittle from her mouth sprayed over Deidre's face and she nearly sent the elf into oblivion but she did not.

Deidre's chest heaved with heavy breaths as she calmed herself. She had lost her foci, her meeting with Fen'Harel was soon. For months she had begged and proclaimed to the returning God that she had done great things for the Elvhen people and she would show him. Now what did she have but her failed experiments? But looking down at the unconscious form beneath her she stilled her raging anger. She could sense the enchanted sword tied to the woman she held was healing her as they spoke, despite the blood loss Leone had endured. Even with the sword it was nearly unimaginable that this...this 'warrior'...could survive the deadly curse she had cast around foci to enhance its barrier of protection. Around her the vials of lyrium and potion bottles shook with unrestrained power that flowed from her in desperation as she resolved not to kill this fool before her. No...no….no...she would be her passage to the coming God's side. She would be the one to survive her tests.

With that thought a disgustingly sinister smile covered her lips and in spite of the blood speckles. She smirked as she summoned guards within the mansion to take the warrior to the basement.

In the morning she would deal with her new test subject, but for now she was intent on checking her wards and barriers around the estate. She already had a few dead bodies to clear off her gardens.

Hours later as the sun glistened on the shoreline Barnaby stood on the prow of a sturdy ship. Shakes still coursed through his body randomly as he recalled the evening that had passed. With little time to spare he had made it to this ship and payed for passage to a nearby port where he could wait for Isabela to pick him from.

He prided himself on not being skittish, but after seeing the Herald...she had taken dragons and armies...shattered in such a manner. It hurt him to leave but there was no way as a lone thief that he could save her or the mission. Barnaby considered risking his life but he knew Fenris was waiting and he had seen Leone throw the foci with all her might.

"Are you all right, sir?" a crew member asked Barnaby and he nodded, waving the kind gentleman off. Probably thought he was seasick, that would be the reason for the green color of his skin for sure and queasiness the man seemed to suffer from.

He blinked, remembering his last moments with Leone. Just as she asked he set up a few bombs and traps within the room nearest the laboratory, both drawing the Magister out and at least stalling her for a few seconds as he backtracked to the room with the slaves. In that time he had led most of them down to another room, leaving them briefly so that he could check on Leone. His breath had stuck in his throat when he saw the blonde elf with her hair whipping behind her cast a blazing fire spell upon the disoriented champion who had just thrust herself up from the floor. Quick reflexes had him soaking in the fact that Leone's false arm was absent, only a fleshy stub apparent, and a dull ball had been thrown high above her.

In all of that noise he had whistled a tune so sharp and brief only Rook would note it in this delirious chaos. Before he could take another step he saw the Magister rush to Leone's side, his mind remembering the servants awaiting his return and he ran to assist them.

Just as he had promised her he led the servants to Fenris as the noise within and around the estate grew and grew with suspicion and fear in the growing disaster. More guards were flowing out and the smoke from the recent blast confused many. As they ran out of the gardens and past the gate they hid as soon as they could, resorting to hiding in a sewer for hours with the fleeing servants they had rescued.

At least Barnaby could rest easy - with an operation as hectic as that...their secret was out. No hiding anymore and it was best that they had been able to take as many out as possible with this last maneuver. The stench of the filth that remained the same throughout races reeked and remained on him as they fled to the Wolf's Den.

There was no time when they arrived for more than clearing. All wares were abandoned on the shelves as were and Fenris only ran through the shop quickly to gather some things from his room and Leone's before setting the building aflame. Barnaby had gone to his own safe house and picked the ticket for passage to another port. It was as he did so that Rook showed up, finally. He had feared what happened to his loyal crow and he saw easily enough that the bird had not escaped undamaged.

It landed haphazardly, colliding with the ground from having to hold a heavy weight against its body. Barnaby ran to his side, ignoring the orb for now as he checked his friend. The bird was injured, a series of burns had hit its wings and a leg, leaving the crow limping and barely able to fly straight with its right leg curled against the body and wing singed to skin. Rook crowed weakly and Barnaby went to his pouches, bringing back poultices and ointments to treat his friend.

Once that was done he had the bird wrapped and nestled with bandages. Then he finally took the cursed orb Leone had worked so hard for that Rook had dropped. It was still as dull, brown colored as he remembered and unimpressive. It glowed briefly so he placed it in his pocket, moving to collect Rook and leave.

His last assignment before leaving the Imperium was to meet Fenris. Another cloaked figure of immense size was hiding in a wagon not far from the broody elf when he approached. He suspected Qunari but said nothing as he went up to the familiar man.

"Fenris, take this with you. I wish you luck and safety," Barnaby stated, handing the satchel containing the Elvhen foci over to Fenris. He clutched arms with Fenris in a warrior's farewell before turning to run towards port. Would not be much longer before the city guards came searching. In a distance shouting could be heard, words of a large fire and smoke in the air. Fenris shuffled the burdensome satchel in his clawed hands, placing it over his shoulder and distrusting the pulse radiating from it against his body. He knew...Hawke would not allow something like this to pass...they would regroup and find a way to save her.

With that hope in his mind and the reminder that others relied on him, Fenris turned with a torn soul to join the strange Qunari that Leone knew to lead the servants from the Magister's estate to Fereldan territory. "Please forgive me, Leone," he whispered and he thought he saw the giant of a man beside him turn back to look at the disappearing city with a look of regret and tears in his eye.

P.S. I was apprehensive about writing this chapter because it is more of a building stone so I hope it was as much joy for you as it was for me writing it. All the love 3


	9. Chapter 8: Lyrium Lullaby

**Chapter 8: Lyrium Lullaby**

 __Leone awoke and her brain sluggishly calculated the possible conditions her body was in.

Pain streaked throughout her blood as if it were the veins that pulsed life inside of her. She disregarded that as remnant reminders of the malicious blast earlier. That protective barrier surrounding the foci had been incredibly powerful. Soon she realized it was not just the pain of recovering from wounds. Despite the damage the magical barrier had caused her she felt something off and stinging.

It was far, far worse, for as she tried to stretch she felt the unrelenting tug of metal chains on her wrists and ankles. Even her slender belly was latched down by a heavy ring of metal that even her slight exhalations made her abdomen bulge over. The noise awoke someone for she heard the rustling of armored feet moving towards the door. Then fading footsteps. Just as her vision focused the voice of the Magister pierced her ears.

"You have awoken," was the simple statement lifted from the Magister's lips as she came to hover over the wounded warrior. Her face was still opulently gorgeous, but Leone's knowledge of her research had turned her into a warped demon before her eyes. She no longer could see the beauty and instead saw the deep venom of the woman's soul. "Come now, my precious experiment. You are doing so well...don't you want to know what has happened?" cooed the fancy elf as she meandered around the table holding Leone down. Manicured fingers lightly trailed along the edges of the manacles and rings holding Leone securely fastened to the operating slate.

Leone simply cleared her throat and warily eyed the Magister who giggled coyly behind her hand.

"I'll tell you anyway. Stubborn mule," she teased, stopping abruptly to face Leone eye to eye and placing her finger on her cheek. It was a manner of owning, of touching without being allowed. Deidre smiled absently as she did so, ruminating in her power. "I have begun the process of applying lyrium tattoos upon your injured body as you were unconscious. Prior I had been afraid of killing my lyrium test subjects, but you...I know how resilient you are," Deidre whispered, her voice pitching higher as she spoke. "Shall I call you Leone, Dorian's dear friend? Or shall I call you the Herald of Andraste? Either way you are quite the glorious tool."

Silence lingered in the air as Leone lay silent, trying to look at what she could but unable to even move her neck much with the iron chains holding it down.

"The world used you to close the rifts and now I shall use you to secure my position as the hand of Fen'Harel." Those words that fell from Deidre's lips halted Leone's movements.

Her hand moved from Leone's face to her collar, tracing the sharp slope of her clavicle.

"Since you've been unconscious the cuts into your body have been easy to make and treat. It is too bad that you awoke just in time for the lyrium process...although perhaps that means you have healed enough to sustain it fully. I have no doubts you will survive my experiment now," Deidre said and she stepped back from Leone. Leone's brain didn't know how to interpret any of this - the explosion, the foci, she knew nothing of what had happened since except that this Magister was beyond pissed. She could only hope that as she suffered the others had been able to at least escape.

For now she remained silent, gathering her thoughts. Before long though they had flown from her mind. The Magister's words had shook her and she found the annoyingly sweet voice tiresome to be honest. However, it was worse because she heard the woman moving now and she had stopped talking.

Deidre was maniacally thrilled to begin the lyrium processing for Leone's tattoos. The cuts had been made the past few days as shallow tattoos, like an underpainting for a work of art. To Deidre the marks were beautiful channels of possibility, allowing the strong creature she marked to finally be one with the true heritage of her elven lineage. They flowed with the lines of her veins and musculature as vines and spirals.

Now Deidre cut deeper - the scars thicker - and in the Magister's hand she held a vial of potent lyrium that she poured into those cuts. Unbeknownst to Leone, Deidre's hands glowed with vile magic as she chanted upon the distraught body before her. The bold azure liquid pulsed with a green glow before transitioning to a painful white river guided by Deidre's chanting. Slowly and methodically the Magister focused as she cautiously trailed the mixture into the fresh marks. While her magic imbued Leone with unwanted power, it also tied her to the Magister's will. She grew powerful and enslaved as the Magister carved and settled the tattoos upon Leone.

Leone could do nothing but try to hold her cries. It was only so long though before she gave in, as she may be a hero but she was still a living creature. And she was being tortured by this inexorably mad woman. At first it was a tear, her pride broken as pain flooded all her senses, and then it was a stifled sob. Just as Deidre finished the final flick of her knife and sluggishly poured lyrium into the following swell of blood Leone began to sob.

What kind of hero was she? A tool of the Chantry? Abandoned by lover and friends...perhaps even the Gods? For so long Leone had worked to secure the safety of others and now she lay broken. She lay smelling the metallic tang of blood from her abused body and feeling the absence of love.

And that was how her days continued for a time she could not even fathom, so broken by loss and torment Leone forgot time. It felt as if forever would be Deidre cutting into her flesh, marking it with intricate designs she favored – perhaps for magical reasons – and pouring the burning liquid of lyrium straight into the wounds. After so long she just cried and sometimes she would be exhausted, just staring into the ceiling of the brick basement wishing for death. How could she survive such desolation? Had she not served her purpose? What more could the world ask of an elven warrior?

Weeks had past after Leone gave up that Deidre had finished her work.

Her dream had become a reality; the warrior who had stolen her life's triumph had FINALLY paid for all the damage she had dealt. Soon Deidre would meet the great Fen'Harel. She could not wait to show him the results of her work – for she might have lost a foci he had searched near and far for, but – she could gift him a warrior like few others. He would only have to know the enchantments and this warrior would bend to his will, with skills no other warriors outside the notorious wolf of Danarius knew. Not many survived such a process, especially the few...twists she added for this subject.

"My work is done," she announced one day, not sure if Leone was even coherent anymore. When the elf had been in sobs at least she knew she was aware but recently her subject had taken on a glazed look - far off and absent. Mentally she might be lost, but Deidre didn't care. "You will be taken to the cages and kept. In a few days I will present you before our coming God. Fen'Harel. He will lead us into a world...well...do you even understand me anymore, I wonder?" Deidre muttered off, noting the lack of life in Leone's face again.

She was still as a doll and Deidre appraised her work once more. "You will see. It is for the return of our people. You will understand," Deidre promised. The enchanting and spells had drained the mana reservoirs of the mage so bags had appeared under her exquisite eyes and her manicured hands were covered in filth. Pride welled in her at seeing her work done, at the creature she had helped to create laying prostrate beneath her.

Slender, tall and lithe the elven warrior before her was infamous. A twig that bowed before no demon, human or God. One that had protected the world with the mysterious strength behind her wiry frame and willpower. Her tanned skin had waned, paling a bit under the basement and Deidre knew the chains were tight enough to leave slight sores and marks upon the frail skin. Due to her strength Deidre refused to allow the warrior to be released ever so…scraps had been fed to her prisoner and part of breaking her spirit had been the proud warrior soiling herself.

For now she was to be cleaned up, only her breasts and genitals covered so Deidre could admire her work. Soon she would test the tattoos for sure, but for now a faint glow had covered Leone's skin as Deidre looked on. Pulsing, deep blue glowing along the ornate tattoo of Leone's body. It was weak as she was and followed the lines of her veins, much like Fenris – but she would not see that for some time. Leone's mind registered the comments of Deidre but she...she didn't move. She didn't know why, but she simply didn't feel anything anymore except the pain. Also, she might have to urinate soon but what did it matter? They would just leave her here as they had the past few weeks. Diedre bent over, checking the lines of the tattoos, whispering a few more incoherent words and casting a spell to weaken Leone again. She fell asleep and as she did so Deidre cursed slightly beneath her breath with a heavy sigh.

"Servants, guards!" shouted the Magister angrily, rubbing her forehead. She could hardly bear the stench anymore now that she had completed all the tiresome and tedious work. Two servants with cursed collars came into the chamber. Both were young, one held some towels and brushes and the other a large bucket of water. Behind them were two warriors and a mage wearing a hooded, gray cloak. "I want her cleaned up and set up in the cage. Also, find some rags for her to shown in."

"Yes, milady," both servants bowed deep and low with the guards bowing only slightly lower.

With that Deidre left the room to recuperate from her exhausting regiment so she might test the might of her experiment and prepare her to meet their savior. Ever since the break in the Magister had been slightly edgier, even declining invitations to parties and social gatherings so the other Magisters had begun to spread rumors. She cared not though for she would not need their insolent company for too much longer. Besides, she thought, removing her stained, bejeweled gown – being the mistress of so many nobles gave her plenty of blackmail to hold a majority of the prominent wagging tongues. Finally...she would be recognized, all her struggles and accomplishments had brought her to the peak of her dreams past the enslavement of her youth. It soothed her so to know all these years of atrocious acts would be worth it.

Not too far away Leone was cleaned up by the young servants, both girls barely at the bridge of adolescence anymore. They tried not to grimace and keep blank faces as they wiped the fluids and stains from the deathly still woman. One tried to be gentle as she rubbed at the tarnished skin, knowing that this elf must be the one she had heard of...the Herald of Andraste. Her hero and hope lay here strapped down. The second servant girl caught her eye and cautioned her to hurry. Once they had completed their duties, the guards and mage stepped up.

Both guards unlocked the chains and rings revealing open sores and at the bare minimum, wrinkled red skin from the abrasions. Instantly, the mage began to glimmer with power, keeping a sleeping spell upon her heavily, his eyes barely blinking as the guards carried her form down a hall and up one flight of stairs still beneath the main floor. Into another dark room they carried her and in the chamber lined with mostly empty cages they found the largest.

A few cages were filled with animals and a majority with bones of some kind. For Leone, they had picked the largest and heaviest that was imbued with enchantments and barriers to prevent her from escaping. This cage was large enough for both men to walk within its barred walls while crouching and a thin, scratchy rag that could barely be considered a towel covered the bars making up the bottom. Gently they placed her on the ragged cloth and locked the cage behind them, holding off their exit as the mage cast a few spells before motioning to them that all was completed.

Within two days Leone had risen in the cage residing in the dank basement. Barely containing her excitement Deidre immediately summoned her guards and a few mages to her experiment's chamber. At her sides were the guards and mage shadowing her close by.

"I've been waiting for you, Leone," Deidre announced, waiting to see if Leone would meet her gaze. "Do you want to see what you can do now?" she teased, crouching to Leone's eye level. Leone continued to stare forward, her eyes shifting slightly to the right but otherwise staring through the other woman. After a few moments the Magister's irritation seeped through her visage and her face scrunched with annoyance, "Well...either way I want to. Until you can see the reality of our current state to our destiny...you'll just have to enjoy being a guest." With that her brows slanted sharply downward and cast a shadow on her luminescent skin.

It was the first time Leone had seen the Magister with her staff. She held it like a flower, allowing it to hang in her relaxed fingers with its base like a white stalk breaking out into white tendrils that flowed over a smooth, glowing orange orb at the prominence. Her power flowed again like a white river from her fingertips to cover her flesh and Leone felt the strength of it. Suddenly she realized why she could feel it.

Staring in shock her flesh glowed obscenely cobalt like a bomb released within. Tingling broke out throughout her limbs and she began to breathe heavily as she abruptly lost feeling and sensation in her legs then arms. Moments slipped by and all at once she felt confined as if her body was not her own, was her mind even safe? Was she going insane?

"You are mine, puppet," Magister Deidre proclaimed with a smirk, only the slight shake of her palm showing the power required to control the caged warrior. "Now, come. Let us try out your new abilities." With that she stood and mentally commanded Leone about.

First, it was simple enough – moving to the cage door. Stepping out of it and then kneeling before Deidre as if praying with her forehead touching the dirty ground. "Good, let's move up then, shall we?"

"You, prepare to spar," Deidre warned the nearest guard who unsheathed his sword into a defensive stance then moved forward. Leone's tattoos flared suddenly and Deidre frowned, "Uh uh uh…," she tutted her captive who faltered slightly. "Do as I say," Deidre said again and this time Leone's tattoos burned ferociously as if the wounds were still fresh. It weakened her inner defiance and her feet nearly tripped over themselves rushing the guard now.

Without a weapon and weak the guard eyed her laxly. He blocked a few punches and a kick. Even he winced at the sound of her bare bone smacking his leather armor. But with a blink he missed a counter she had thrown his way after a slow thrust of his sword towards her. Now she was at his side and contorted her body across his so that her hip slammed against his own. His pelvis came off center by the swift assault and his feet came up just inches from the ground. With that he was on the floor and he panicked, instantly forgetting it was a spar. Turning his wrist to stab her intentionally with his sword she lay over him trying to hold each limb down. In turn she slammed her heel against his jaw and he felt his teeth slam against each other.

"Enough!" ordered the Magister. "Good enough." Leone leapt up from the man and returned to Deidre's side, kneeling in a ready position like a slave. He clambered to his feet quickly upon being freed. His gnashing teeth had bit his cheek and blood seeped from his pressed lips. Frustration pulsated at the core of Leone but she held back, waiting to see the woman's next move. It did not take long.

"Shall we test something a little...different?" Deidre suggested, glancing down. Next she dismissed the guard back away with a wave of her hand. Leone looked up and followed the Magister's gaze which had fallen upon the mage standing behind the guards. The cloaked mage came forward with its face hidden in the shadow of its cloak. "Attack her," Deidre commanded, her tone even but her eyes brimming with excitement.

Leone braced herself, she wanted to move but Deidre's control had her rooted in place. It had been some time since she'd taken a direct spell to the face but she had little choice. She had expected the mage to hesitate but it did not and a second later a blur of blinding white light came thrashing towards her. Burning heat flowed within her body in a rush only to dissipate momentarily.

"Excellent," Deidre breathed while staring at Leone who was still frozen in place. She could see the burning tattoos flashing furiously as they worked to negate the lighting bolt her assistant had summoned. They could not dispel all of the spell, but the pain was dimmed greatly and more of a distraction than injury. "That will do for now. I am please," she nodded and softly padded away from the subservient elf. Her hand pressed tentatively against the stormy gray locks on Leone's head as she passed, "Good girl. I am thrilled to present you before our coming Fen'Harel. He has graciously agreed to meet with me soon. Do not disappoint me little beast." Leone bristled at the nickname, she enjoyed Beasty as a term of endearment – not this abominable connotation. Without any thought her body moved and she felt like a passenger within as her legs crouched deep to fit back inside the cage. Even her traitorous hands smoothly closed the door, allowing one of the other guards to come up and lock it. For the first time as she sat there, watching the group leave in silence she felt control of her body return.

After a few breathes she calmed herself and stretched best she could in the confines. Her heart pounded, wondering what it would be like to see Fen'Harel after so long. Would she even see him? He might have even forgotten her after so long and overwhelmed with plans of his own. Perhaps, if the Magister Deidre distracted him with his laborious conversations then she might be able to flee. In battles she had seen Fenris use the lyrium tattoos to phase through things - similar to Solas's Fade Step. Perhaps she could do the same. Gathering her stamina she tried to focus, imagine, whatever mages might do to concentrate their magic. Just as she felt a pool of thrilling power well within it was followed by a sharp pain arcing throughout her.

It thrust her upon her back and she saw the bars of her cage pulsating with the same annoyingly blistering white light of Deidre's magic. 'Has little beast been trying to test without me? Silly girl, save your energy for later and rest,' she heard the woman's lilting voice in her head. Despite the lack of activity and the fear Leone had that her muscles might be wasting away confined as she was…her eyes snapped shut. Brief as the activity had been her exhaustion and weariness had culminated in her going unconscious...prodded along by Deidre's magic as well.

By the time she came to Leone's heart was beating against her rib cage rashly. Her hands clasped the bars of her cage tightly, hurting the flesh as she realized they were moving and she could see nothing. A thick, black cloth – likely a blanket – had been thrown over her prison and she could hear the creaking of a wooden cart as they moved forward to some unknown place. It had felt as if she had just fallen asleep but she knew better. Trying to maneuver she threw her body against the walls of the small cage, trying to move it and find some way of getting free. Soon someone noticed however and she heard the cart stop.

"She's causing a ruckus, Magister!" shouted a man nearby and Leone could hear the footsteps of the Magister draw near.

"Fortunately - we have arrived. Go ahead and take her down," announced Deidre. Leone's heart dropped and she held her breath anxiously as Deidre removed the blanket once the cage had settled on the ground. It was still dark out, the stars had begun to dwindle as the sky was gently lightening. Darkness would still reign for the next few hours but the sun would rise soon.

Fresh dew lingered in the air and the cool air caused a shiver to run through Leone as she took in her surroundings. Thick trees sturdy from growth surrounded them and there was no apparent path in the area so it must have been a secret area. In the near proximity she saw in the faltering moonlight that some ancient ruins were nearby. They were protruding slightly from a mountain wall covered in vines. Much like her fresh tattoos they were thick, coursing all over the mountain side and nearly hiding the entrance from view but her sharp eyes clearly saw the outline of the modest design. More alarming were the two scouts near the entrance, their bodies illuminated faintly by a light from within the ruins...one she recognized from the veilfire during her voyages of the Inquisition.

He was there, Leone knew it and as her hand clutched to her chest anxiously she realized the pendant she had worn for some time was absent. Deidre must have removed it when she captured her.

To the left of the cage Deidre stood with her own pride and nerves filling her full. Her guards stood near with two carefully watching her subject Leone as they opened the cage door. This evening Deidre had pulled her hair back high into a bun and wore simple traveling dress to escape the city walls with little notice. Only now did Deidre lower her hood and take her staff from the cart.

"You do not know how long I've waited to meet him," Deidre spoke aloud, so gently it was a whisper on the shifting winds and Leone could have missed it. There was a hint of obsession behind it and her crimson orbs met the flowing azure of Deidre's eyes. "This is my chance," she stated simply and as Leone lost the sense of control over her body again her tattoos flared scarlet. "As such, I cannot risk more than I have," Deidre explained as she snapped her fingers and one of the guards came over with fresh shackles inscribed with enchantments. The two smallest were locked upon her wrists with a thick chain linking them together and slightly large ones were latched upon her ankles. Finally, the largest one – a single shackle was clasped around her neck and the chain link clanked into place with a lock between the metal links holding her wrists close.

Breathing deeply in, Deidre looked forward with Leone standing behind her shackled and covered in a beaten tunic. "Let us meet Fen'Harel and show him our future." Moving forward with no other comment, Leone fell in step with the metal jingling in a foreboding dance about her. Guards circled and flanked the Magister with two mages behind the chained warrior.


	10. Chapter 9: Caught in the Crossfire

Chapter 9: Caught in the Crossfire

A cold, clammy sweat lay over Leone's flesh as they passed the guards of Fen'Harel near the ruin entrance and descended into a cavernous tomb dimly lit by veilfire. Deidre led the way, her hair echoing the vibrant green of the fire and her staff lightly tapping the stone stairs as she walked. None of the guards even turned their heads as the small entourage passed by and Leone awkwardly clambered behind with her chains clanking before her.

Despite their long, slow descent into the massive room of stone Leone was shocked as they reached the bottom to discover that while they had walked into the mountain essentially – a large hole must have been blown into the peak of the mountain overhead. For the sky with its brilliantly twinkling stars sparsely hidden by traces of fog was visible to her. Even the moon could be seen above them, shedding light that was a trace warmer than the sickly hue of veilfire. Leone's heart beat heavily as they entered and she saw the horde of covered warriors across from them – all elves.

While a few didn't wear a hood, a majority of them did with their faces obscured and their leathers fitting tightly to their lithe bodies. Some of them wore heavier armor to protect their bodies as she had just before her capture but as a group they all wore capes of forest green. In the center of the room in front of the Fen'Harel soldiers and standing over a delicate mosaic to Sylaise was a tall man. His face hidden by the shadow of his cape and his armor glinting beneath it. He held a staff in his right hand and Leone detected a scowl on his wide mouth. Solas?

Deidre continued without missing a beat in her steps and halted a few feet from the obvious leader of the group. The other members of her troupe stopped in their steps and the guards kept close to Leone as she held her breath, nerves tingling.

"Good evening, Lord Fen'Harel," Deidre said, bowing her head lightly, "I've been waiting to meet with you and present my findings." Her voice was husky and charismatic, a sweet smile on her face as she spoke. "I believe you'll be pleased."

The man did not smile back as he replied, "Lord Fen'Harel could not make it. He asked me to come in his stead. Our lord is busy with many more pressing matters to consult." His face did not attempt to soften his words and his stature was still stiff. Deidre did not frown, but Leone noticed a slight twitch of her fingers on her staff as she attempted to continue smiling.

"I sent Fen'Harel word…through no small effort on my part, I might add, that I had located and procured one of the great foci. It would be a momentous asset to him if rumors are to be true," she stated, "Or are the rumors wrong? Does the great Fen'Harel have no need for these foci?"

"The rumors are not wrong," the elf replied, but his tone continued to be monotonous and nearly bored. Just as Deidre's smile began to warm once more, the representative for Fen'Harel froze her smile into ice as he asked her, "Our own sources tell us it was stolen from you of late? Is that rumor also true?" His own frown deepened minutely and Deidre's hand clasped her staff.

"There is truth to that rumor."

"Then what business do you even have with our savior? Some elf who's whored her soul and morals to the Tevinter Magisters. You dark to think presenting Fen'Harel with a gift would allow you to join? I think you hold yourself far too high in regard," he said and his tone slightly betrayed a hint of annoyance and anger. "We will be leaving. Now."

As he turned to go, Deidre shouted out, "I have something greater!" but the leader ignored her and the other elves garbed in the armor of Fen'Harel's army began to filter out of the room. "Wait!" Even then they ignored her and in frustration the Magister cast a spell of blazing fire blocking their exit. It did not burn a single person but blocked their way and instantly swords were drawn as arrows were notched. "Look!" she grabbed the wrist of the manacled Leone and using her strength she threw her before the encroaching and enraged elf leader. His hood flew back now to reveal a pale face of scars and blue eyes similar to Deidre. Caught off guard Leone froze before she felt the shackles fall off. Deidre had cast the enchantment to unlock the chains and just as the leader slashed downward towards her she moved.

"What the hell?" he said, his blade going through air and he faltered. Some strange elf had stood before him but a breath ago and as he stood he made eye contact with the irritating blonde Magister.

"See," the woman quipped and nodded behind him as she continued to hold up a barrier spell around herself. Turning he saw the figure who had been thrown at him. She had disappeared so suddenly only to reappear behind him? How?

"Hold!" he shouted and while their weapons were still drawn, their movements had stopped. He looked at this...tattooed elf. He was speechless, the marks on her body weren't like the Dalish he had seen, these were...something strange and unknown to him. Her eyes were wide in shock and a crimson he had not seen in an elf before. The tattoos glowed and cast an eerie air about the woman as he then noted the shackles on her limbs and throat. Her chains were split now so she could move freely but the weight of the manacles remained. His eyes narrowed, was this woman a slave?

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked Deidre, stepping back to keep his eyes on both women. Magic had died in the room so it went back to a still, quiet silent save for their breathing and shifting wind.

"I have completed a rare treatment. It permits elves who have lost their touch with the Fade to regain an attachment and establish a connection. It also empowers them with extraordinary skills. For example…," she lifted her own staff this time and cast a fireball towards Leone. Frozen in place by Deidre's cursed willpower Leone took in the magic as it dissipated over her skin and diminished, causing a mild burning sensation.

While the leader was silent Deidre didn't miss the incredibly soft and nearly imperceptible gasp of a few of the soldiers near the stairs. "I do believe Fen'Harel would be most interested in this knowledge. Wouldn't you?" she teased, planting a hand on her hip and dropping any pretense of humility.

The scarred elf was silent but Leone read his features. He might have been surprised at first, but she saw his small eyes zone in on the shackles. Her scars. His frown had returned with ferocity but for some time he said nothing. "Come, pet," Deidre summoned Leone to her side and stiffly she returned. She began kneeling at the Magister's side. "What have you to say?" her voice turned irritable as she waited and then the leader sheathed his sword.

"Step down, Jeole," a voice spoke out and Deidre's entourage looked up in surprise. Further in the tomb a statue of Sylvaise had been built. Trees and vines surrounding her. On the left side a figure came forward, its face shrouded in the dark and hidden by the silky hood covering its head. Dust shifted in the air like specks around it and leaves shuffled beneath its feet.

Leone didn't need to see the face though, she had heard the voice. She recognized exactly who it was.

Her heart dropped and shame at her situation filled her soul.

"Who are you?" Deidre asked, her power casting a spell in preparation.

"Who do you think I am?" the figure continued and came forward, pushing the hood down to reveal a lightly freckled face of pale flesh. Large, soft lips were set in a line and his dark brows were furrowed beneath a slight scar on his forehead. The moon shone on his bare scalp creating a slight halo effect. Before Deidre could react his eyes shimmered fiercely with light and a gasp behind her caused her to turn.

One of her mages had been changed into stone, cursed for eternity. Diedre quickly summoned a barrier and forced Leone to stand before her, "You are Fen'Harel."

His lips pulled against his teeth in a snarl as his head tilted back to look down on her.

"What is this?" she asked, confusion lacing her voice. Leone tried to fight back against the lyrium in her veins demanding her to guard Diedre. It burned and Leone finally brought herself to look into his eyes as she took a defensive stance in little more than rags as her armor. Staring at his face she could see nothing but the brewing, aggressive magic within his eyes.

"I might ask the same thing? What do you think you are doing?" he asked, his voice tightly contained in a manner Leone had not heard since they had helped his spirit friend in the Exalted Plains.

"I came to help you, my lord. This thief!" she started, her voice shrieking as she pointed to Leone, "This THIEF stole the foci I intended to share with you! For the better of our people!" Her voice increased to a shrill as she continued, "When it was stolen I found another opportunity! I would help her to change the future of the people. With you! By integrating the knowledge that I have. Then we could create elves who are not separate from the Fade...even if they are not born mages! People who are strong enough to survive the future we all desire for the elves!" Deidre was overwhelmed and the weapons had come out again. Her hands wildly gesticulating around her. "We could bring the elven empire back to its former glory!"

"What Tevinter Magister would know about elven glory?" he asked, and Leone felt herself stiffen in preparation. With shock Leone realized Deidre intended to use her against her former lover.

"Particularly one who enslaves their own kind?" he hissed.

Deidre realized suddenly she was not going to be leaving this ruin easy. Not everyone sought power ruthlessly in the manner she did. She had misunderstood how this trickster operated.

"Not only an elf – do you know who this elf is!?" his tone lost its smooth threat and capitulated to a full out furious yell. Before she could blink Leone felt her body push forward, against her will, and somehow she had gotten her hand on a decrepit sword on the ground. Shouts and yells could be heard behind her as she lashed out at Solas.

Despite being a mage and not a warrior, he was strong. With ease he was blocking her attacks and trying to disarm her. She heard bangs and the explosion of magic as the fight behind her began, but suddenly her body froze as Solas held off her recent swipe with his staff. He tried an ice spell, to hold her feet but her body shifted and disappeared, only to apparate at his side.

His composed features revealed nothing, but he stopped moving, and Leone felt something strange within her. Solas's eyes had that silver storm encapsulating them again. Would he turn her to stone as well? A few seconds passed with only the clash of steel reverberating in her ears as she zoned out. Suddenly her body felt on fire as if it was boiling and pain arced through her core. So he had not turned her to stone...yet...

She cried out and suddenly she felt a strong pull over her being, similar to the pull Deidre had been using but somehow different and eliciting a new pain.

"What are you doing?" she heard Deidre cry out and Leone looked over to see the woman kneeling. Her two guards were wounded. The woman kept some of the soldiers at bay with more fire and flaming walls. Her smooth bun was half burnt to a crisp and her face speckled with blood. At her side, her other mage was casting barrier and healing without stopping, its body shaking. Angrily the Magister summoned the last vestiges of her power.

"Get over here now!" she screamed and Leone felt her body forced back to the woman instantly, but at the last few feet another force pulled on her. The Magister coughed up blood as she fought to stand, jumping up to grab Leone by the large collar shackle. Her pale fingers were trembling and blood dripped down her chin and gown. She held Leone down so that the tanned elf's head was near her thighs.

"You will let us leave!" Deidre said, another weak cough spilling more blood out of her lips. "Or I will take this one with us in death!" she threatened, drawing a thin dagger from a pocket of her gown. It was slender and long, but she held it far steadier than her trembling might have suggested. She ripped Leone up from the ground, purposely thrusting her hand beneath the loose collar to tighten it on Leone's neck as she brought the dagger to her pinched throat. Leone's hands twitched, trying to move against Deidre's will.

"Why is that?" Solas asked, his eyes clearing to their usual hue. It did nothing to lessen his imposing form as he still was bent forward with staff in hand and left hand flexed for a spell.

"I know much about the apostate that traveled with the Herald. Including his strange talisman," the Magister said bitterly and with her hand around Leone she gestured to one of her guards. The guard reached into his belt pouch and tossed out a bundle to the elf god. It clattered near his feet but Solas didn't look down. Leone did. It was the jawbone necklace. "I wasn't sure what it meant with this one. But I'm fairly certain now." A glint of sinister hope shimmered in her eyes. Only one eye was visible behind Leone's drained face held before her.

Solas was silent.

Seconds ticked by and ever so slowly he relaxed his limbs back. His form was tense but no longer threatening to the coughing Magister. Her weakened mage assistant nearly collapsed and knelt on the floor gasping. Both guards of hers leaned on their swords surrounded by a semi-circle of the soldiers of Fen'Harel. His head tilted back as he observed her, unable to remove the scowl on his face.

"You may go," he stated and the Magister tightened her grip on Leone. A snap of Deidre's controlling power lashing out through Leone's body as she removed her hand from under the collar to simply grip it. Leone grunted from the pain the power lashing caused, not noticing that Deidre had locked eyes with Solas in that moment and brought the dagger deeper into Leone's neck.

"I will release her when we are safe," Deidre warned him as her entourage followed her out. Her eyes on the man staring at her. He waved his left hand for the guards to move for her and she drug Leone slowly along. Deidre's guards went first, paving a way and her mage was nearby holding onto her gown to lead her safely through the crowd as she focused on controlling Leone completely.

It didn't matter though.

Deidre's assistant had been weakened by expending all his magic to protect her. Halfway up the stairs he suddenly tripped on step. Caught off guard by the weight of his hand pulling her, Deidre lost hold just the tiniest bit on the dagger and Leone. Abruptly the dagger cut sharply against Leone's collarbone causing a fan of blood to spray out.

Before she could regain footing, Solas had Fade Stepped close to her and cast Winter's Grasp as the Magister's guards abandoned her to the elves for their own safety. A bit of frost touched the flesh of Leone as she was freed of Deidre's control momentarily. The ruby-colored tattoos flashed and again the bit of magic was absorbed by her flesh. Her hands went out as she fell and crashed to the floor. Every vein in her body burned as she was released and then the pain focused to the slash on her collar, blood seeping and covering her front. She looked down. Why was she bleeding so much? Wasn't it just a cut?

Her mind felt giddy and her vision blurred as she thought – perhaps if she was wearing more than rags she'd be better protected. Even kneeling her tunnel vision increased so she didn't hear the scream Deidre emitted as Solas smashed her frozen body with his staff. Turning her head took much effort and Leone noted that Jeole had knocked the last member of Deidre's entourage roughly on the scalp with the butt of his sword. The mage collapsed, completely unconscious.

Solas turned to face Leone, his target defeated and no longer a threat. He masked his feelings well and made sure the soldiers could not detect a change. However – even in hardening himself to that extent his soldiers, such as Jeole, had been with him too long not to read the subtle body language. So they did not miss the sudden, brief flash of pain in his eyes or the way his brows rose ever so slightly.

He had not seen her in years and now...wait…

Solas hurried to kneel down beside her. Something was off and he could smell it in the air. Detect it in the way those luminescent orbs gazed at him as if heavily drugged. Her hands shuffled awkwardly and as he crouched towards her she attempted to stand. Limp hands barely cleared her own knees bent in a crouch before she slumped over and passed out on the weathered ground.

Solas moved quickly, casting a spell to remove any curses and threats upon her person. That damned dagger had been small but even he noted the excessive bleeding. None of his soldiers moved or spoke, they just watched as he hurriedly cast spell after spell in succession with flashes of white and bursts of green illuminating his flesh. His back was turned so they didn't see much beyond this. Oh – and the small pool of blood left by the wounded woman he worked on.

Jeole dismissed many of the soldiers silently with a harsh look so with not a single sound they disappeared as if slithering in the darkness. Solas had successfully removed the poison and healed the visible damage done by the dagger. It did not change the amount of blood loss she had already suffered.

"You all may go," he ordered as soon as he could detect Leone was breathing...well enough for the moment. He didn't trust that cursed Magister not to have left more tricks behind from this...this torture. Solas glanced around when he recognized the fading of Jeole's steps before gazing down at Leone.

It had been such a long, desparate time since he had held her. Even with the portraits he drew he had feared he might forget her face. Now, she lay here. A selfish part of him was...delighted...but quickly he was ashamed of himself. She lay here, alright. Barely alive and clearly some experimental slave for that delusional Magister. His fingers touched the dull, ruby-colored tattoos littering her body and felt the gnarled scarring beneath. It made him freeze and he traced one of the scars realizing that each bit of the tattoo overlaid a thick scar. Alone he brought her close to his chest and tears filled his eyes.

I don't think I can remove these marks, he thought, as he held her tight. His eyes closed and faintly under the smell of blood and sweat intermingling in her hair he detected the fine earthy scent she always had. Guiltily he took one last moment, his eyes closed, to hold her this way.

When he next opened them he shuffled their bodies around so that he was facing the statue of Sylvaise that he had appeared beside. Then, as his knee dug into the ground, he rested his staff against his back and lifted Leone as softly as possible against his chest.

Jeole stood in the furthest shadow from Fen'Harel, barely able to see the god. The moonlight from the hole in the mountain created harsh contrasts on the body of the elf and the woman he held. Her gray hair escaped from the clutches of her protector and spilled over. With a final peek the loyal soldier left.

Without a glance back, whether Solas was aware of the remaining watcher or not, he made his way towards the statue and the left side. Upon closing in on the wall near it, a thick thatch of vines covered a slender hole in the wall hidden from view. Gingerly, Solas turned his body to the side to shuffle in and cautiously made his way through. Within a small chamber filled with an assortment of chests – some raided and some not – he chanted out a few words.

A shaft of light flashed in the right corner and a circle of runes appeared beneath it as a large mirror came into view. Expansive and elaborate it shone brilliantly among the worn treasures. The glass of the mirror seemed to shift and sway. Without hesitation Solas made his way to the mirror and walked through. The moment his entire body disappeared the mirror seemed to flicker like an illusion. Then it ceased to exist altogether to the common eye.

Appearing in a dark forest Solas made use of magic and agility to cover ground as swiftly as possible to the nearest haven he had built. This location was not secure enough to stay for long, mainly meant as a diversion, if another attempted to trace or follow him. Thus, it was also liable for one too curious to find themselves in a dangerous situation.

Deeper within the brooding forest a soft rain began to fall, first as speckles of spit on Solas's garments which he hardly noticed. Luckily within a few more rushed steps his haven was in sight. His steps slowed as through the thickest brush and expansive, gigantic trees the steep slop of a mottled, worn hill came into view. Not nearly tall enough to reach the skies like a mountain it was still substantial and Solas took note of a deep mark dug into the side of the hill wall. He bent low, taking care to pull the figure who had begun to move in his arms tighter as he crouched. Tenderly he shuffled behind a nearby tree brimming with soaked leaves. This time there truly was no one to see as his body moved through the solid rock without any sign of magic.

Solas moved swiftly, casting a quick spell to light some sparse candles arranged within small crevices of the cave wall. It was a tiny space that was just large enough for perhaps four people to lay flat on the cave floor with their arms not spread. Fresh air did flow into the cave for the solid wall was only an enchantment permitting Solas to cross through. He straightened up once he had passed a few inches inside, he had not altered the natural entrance of the cave and it was half a foot shorter than him but increased height further in. A basic wooden desk with a few shelves and drawers contained herbs, poultices, bandages and potions of all assortments. Beside it was a worn stool covered by a soft, threadbare blanket that had seen better days. Back in the furthest corner was a sturdy cot fitted with a plush quilt and tossed pillows at the head. His only alteration to the natural cave was near the entrance a small hole he had dug to build a tiny fire to steam food and the like.

For now he grabbed the threadbare blanket from his stool and threw it upon the bed. He wanted to clean it after he treated her for whatever ailments the Magister had inflicted on her body. That way she may rest on the cot comfortably and not soaked in sweat or blood. A small groan began to escape her lips as he lay her down, pulling his arms from under her smoothly. Not quite opening her eyes were fluttering, the whites of the them rolling up towards him.

First, he discarded his cloak, tossing it on the stool where the blanket had been and wiped his damp hands over his trousers. She barely had any clothes on so he wouldn't touch that for now. Waving his hands over her body he assessed the damage, noting that the poison had left her body as well as the bleeding curse. Quite the dagger, he thought angrily, noting the rapid beat of her heart and developing fever. For all intents and purposes, she was not in danger of a curse, poison or wound, but needed treatment and rest. The tension, agitation, weakness and illness ensnaring her was an encapsulation of the abuse, torture and stress she had withstood.

There was little else he could do at this time until she woke. Another healing spell confirmed her wounds were sealed. The skin was rapidly strengthening against the previously open cuts and he felt the scars on her arm soften slightly as he cast the spell.

Rapid movements and the fluttering of her eyes relaxed so the whites of her eyes were no longer roiling beneath the lids. She stilled and relaxed into the threadbare blanket. At that he turned away to prepare a small fire. He would try to wash off the blood and examine these new scars that cursed elf had placed on his vhenan.

Just as he grabbed a rather petite basin and began to head outside for fresh water he felt something.

Not on his body.

More like a he just had a feeling.

"Solas?" he heard and his heart snapped. He did not answer. Just continued on and out of the cave into the rain so he did not see her slightly open eyes that had been staring at his back. Leone's eyes couldn't be kept open and she fell back into unconsciousness with ease.

With that he stood outside. A deep, thick unease settling in his belly and an even thicker frown on his features. His own eyes were closed as well. All he could think of was how similar it all was to that meeting so many years ago.

Some unknown Dalish elf had gotten caught in his mistake so he'd observed her in his research.

After so much had happened - here he was again, tending to her devastated form.

Such a cosmic joke, he mused, waiting a second longer than necessary to return to the cave with the overfilling basin and his own clothes soaked through with fresh rain. Luckily, he didn't have to hide his feelings for she had passed out. He would never admit it, but this time it didn't take long to heat the basin with water. Mainly because he only checked it after he had spent time staring at her just feet from him, gray tendrils of hair wriggling free and draping like weeping willow branches off his cot.

 _Author Note: Thank you all who've commented and waited patiently. I have a plan and will finish the fanfiction for this within a few more chapters, I do not intend to create a 40+ chapter fanfiction. I cannot guarantee I will update every week, but I shall try at least every month. This chapter was meant to be out long ago but my loyal laptop died and I was rather attached. After weeks of trying to salvage it I received a new one as a gift. My personal life is also undergoing some changes – all good – but also demanding more of my attention. So again, thank you for your patience and comments._ _The requests for more help inspire me 3_


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